


don't you forget me

by choi_kimmy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anterograde Amnesia, But Natasha Doesn't Remember So, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Everyone lives, F/M, Happy Ending (in a way), Heavy Angst, I Can't Call This A Fix-It Fic Since It's Sad But IDK, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Retrograde Amnesia, The Suffering Will Last Until The End Of The Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-21 03:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choi_kimmy/pseuds/choi_kimmy
Summary: “Every time she wakes up to a new day,” Bruce is staring into thin air, his voice constricting. “She forgets things from yesterday.”Or in other words; If Natasha’s life is a song, it is a tragedy.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 166
Kudos: 316





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressfall/gifts), [nctaliaromanova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctaliaromanova/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> After writing 80k of fluff, I have returned to my original roots of writing Angst and I have to tell you that this fic...oh boy, it really is going to be the saddest thing I have ever written. I've had this plot idea in my head for a long time, an Amnesia AU that doesn't involve the normal retrograde amnesia people are familiar with, but one that involves anterograde amnesia (think 50 First Dates but With Heavy Angst). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic - it will have a happy ending, if that gives any consolation, but the journey to get there will be (i'm not going to lie) painful. Comments are always appreciated - they do fuel me into writing faster, but nonetheless, as long as you read any of my works, I truly appreciate the time, so thank you in advance. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

If Natasha’s life is a song, she would have imagined it to go like this: its introduction starts off soft and light, instrumental notes drifting delicately and melodiously to listening ears; a clean sound. When she was a child, in the few years before the Red Room, Natasha remembers being happy - unreserved, confident, a heart that is pure and untainted. 

Then the first verse comes in, and the innocence from the introduction fades away. Instead, the melody changes, setting the sombre theme of her song to be that of a mystery. In the Red Room, Natasha remembers forgetting how it feels to smile, to laugh. She remembers many days in the dark, not knowing what awaits her beyond the closed doors. She remembers being moulded into somebody she’s not, a stranger living in her body. She remembers only pain.

The chorus of her song sets in and it is a deception of what it truly depicts; the notes seem to be in tune, harmoniously written, but if she listens closely, she would realise how messy it really is, staccatos inserted at all the wrong notes, in all the wrong places. It displays a clear message of her identity, who she really is - a life of lies, tainted with coercion and misrepresentation, overflowing with red in her ledger.

If Natasha’s life is a song, it is a tragedy. 

It is a tragedy, because despite having tried her hardest, her bravest, her strongest, she still failed. In the battle with Thanos, she had lost - suddenly, Natasha sees a morose, lonely world filled only with black and grey. It is a tragedy because in that remaining, tiny faith she has left in herself, Natasha eventually loses hope. She stops believing. 

It is a tragedy because this entire ordeal is a testament that she has lived her entire life in guilt, of knowing that no matter how much she tries, no matter all the good she does, the people she saves - Natasha will never be enough. It will never be enough to wipe the blood from her hands. It will never right all the wrongs she’d committed, never replace all the nightmares buried deep within her.

So she pleads, a whisper to heaven, asking for forgiveness. “_Let me go,_”

Natasha takes in one last breath. “_It’s okay_.” Maybe then, she thinks for one last time, she will finally be at peace. 

She falls.

* * *

He sees her when he closes his eyes. Hears her, even.

Steve sees the way her eyes had crinkled, hears the edge of excitement in her tone when she told him she would see him in a minute. He sees the gleam in her eyes the night before the time heist, of carefree hope that she’d long forgotten about. He hears faith and belief in the form of a genuine laughter that he has not heard in a long time. If he pauses to rewind the memories of hers safely tucked in the deepest recesses of his mind, Steve sees a myriad of scenes playing in his head, hears all of them unfolding - their first encounter, their first words to each other, her smile, her voice - _ who do you want me to be? _

His heart clenches. _ How about a friend? _

Hurt beyond belief - Steve feels it. It comes in the form of an ache etched permanently in his heart, a scar he is devastated to bear, a scar to remind him of what he’d lost in the battle with Thanos; a friend. His partner. A hero. His _ home _. 

The pain aggravates the most in the dark. When Steve is trying in vain to fall asleep, but all he could think about is her hand in his, comforting and assuring him that everything will be okay; every touch of their foreheads against each other, the gentle graze of her lips on his. When Steve realises that forever becomes just a distant memory, when forever becomes an empty shell of a promise, a meaningless word now that she’s gone - that is when the pain hurts the most. 

_ How do I live_, Steve thinks, _ how do I live in this world without you? _

He couldn’t. So he decides that when he returns the stones to their original timelines, he would stay in the past. That way, Steve assumes, it would hurt less. To no longer be around things and places that constantly remind him of her, to be forced to put everything behind him because he’d chosen to be selfish for once - Steve prays that it would hurt less. That was his original plan. But plans, despite how you would hope for it to go through, would somehow still fall through. 

It falls through the second he lays his eyes on his old enemy, and Steve feels a sudden turmoil of emotions gnawing within him, the thought of Schmidt witnessing Natasha’s death sickens every core of his body. It takes him everything not to lunge forward - the only reason keeping him grounded in his position is the soul stone in his hand, where Schmidt’s amusement and interest lies. 

“A soul for a soul,” He breathes out softly, afraid to harbour even a flicker of hope, yet when Steve looks at Schmidt, his eyes are pleading. “If I return the stone here, will I get her back?”

His nemesis regards him stoically. “That isn’t possible. It is an everlasting exchange.” The answer slips out from Schmidt easily, and Steve’s heart races in anger - the words he uttered may have meant nothing to him, but to Steve, they meant _ everything. _

So he shakes his head furiously. “No. _ No_. I refuse to believe that you can’t bring her back."

The Red Skull doesn’t say anything. Steve continues to plead, desperately, relentlessly.

“This cannot be the end.” He states, his voice trembling. “It _ can’t._ You have the power to undo this, why are you acting like you don’t know anything? Like you can’t do anything to fix this situation?”

“Why should I?” Schmidt asks in monotone. For a second, Steve almost sees red. 

“_Why_?” He glares, feeling the ache in his heart as he draws out the words hidden deep within him. “I’ll tell you why. I wake up every morning wishing I didn’t. I wake up to a reminder, day after day, that I am now living in a world without her. When I look to my side, I no longer see her, where the only time I can _ hope _ to see her is in my dreams. But how can I, when all of my dreams these days are nothing but nightmares?”

Schmidt regards him carefully, not reacting to his monologue, a long pause stretching in the cold, forlorn air. “She must be someone important to you.” He says in the end.

Steve takes a tentative step forward. He allows himself to forget that this being in front of him is someone he once loathed. Now, when he looks at him, Steve thinks of him only as an opportunity, a chance for Natasha’s life in exchange for the stone in his hand. 

“She’s _ everything _to me.” Steve answers, conviction in his tone. Schmidt doesn’t react to his declaration, his eyes boring into his blankly.

“She will not be whole.” Schmidt speaks after another pause. “She may even be suffering. Are you sure you want her back?”

Steve does not weigh the consequence of Schmidt’s words. At that moment, he hears only a question to which he believes has only one right answer, one that he’d thought of day and night. Without hesitation, without a sliver of doubt - he nods. “Yes.”

Schmidt shrugs. “So be it.” He turns away.

“Wait-”

Before Steve could finish his sentence, he sees a flash of light, so bright that it nearly blinds him. He shields his eyes, turning his head to the side. The light fades away eventually, and when Steve carefully pries his eyes open, his heart lurches to his throat. 

* * *

**THE PAST**

_ “What?” _

_ Steve heard her gasp over his earpiece, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. _

_ “You’re telling me you haven’t seen Star Wars?” _

_ He took out an incoming enemy on his left easily, swinging the agent around and sending him flying into the barrels behind him. He heard a grunt from his earpiece - hers, followed by a series of punches and kicks, and for one second, Steve had been worried. _

_ And then her voice came in again; “You’re telling me you _ don’t _ know the iconic scene of when Darth Vader told Luke that he is his father?” _

_ Steve didn’t let out a breath of relief. He groaned, instead. “Well, thank you for revealing that the villain is the hero’s father.” _

_ She laughed. “That’s a whole lot of words, grandpa. In this era, we call it ‘spoilers’.” _

_ “What?” Steve frowned, straightening his back after knocking down the last guy in the room. “What’s spoilers?” _

_ Her reply came in a few beats later, her voice almost breathless as she said, “It’s a term describing an information that could potentially reveal the plot of a movie or a book for you. Spoiling the experience, spoiling the ending. _ Hence _ , spoilers.” _

_ “Oh.” Steve appreciated it, really, especially since Natasha had answered him without any hint of judgement in her tone. She wasn’t teasing him for not knowing an internet lingo, she was genuinely explaining the term to him patiently - he smiled a little. “I see. The file room is clear, by the way. What’s your status?” _

_ He could almost see her smile from the way she was chuckling into her earpiece. “All clear, Rogers. Do you even have to ask?” _

_ Steve smiled. “Good. Meet you at the back in five.” _

_ Two evenings later, Natasha showed up in front of his door unannounced. She merely flashed him a smirk, inviting herself into his apartment while waving a stack of DVDs in his face. “It’s a crime, Rogers. It’s a crime.” _

_ “What?” He breathed out, his face warped in complete disbelief that Natasha was in his apartment - how did she even know where he lived? “Natasha, what are you -” _

_ “If people found out you’re my partner but you’ve never seen Star Wars…” She shuddered dramatically, placing the DVDs on his coffee table. “My _ god, _ what would people say of me? Not you, but _ me _ . They’ll think I’m some uncultured swine that doesn’t know how to take care of her partner -” _

_ And then Natasha made her way towards his DVD player, popping a disc into it without even a second of hesitation. By then, Steve had been rendered speechless, too stunned to say anything as he watched how she made herself comfortable on his couch, swinging her legs on top of his coffee table. Natasha turned her head towards his direction, an eyebrow quirked. _

_ “What are you still doing there?” She asked in genuine curiosity, gesturing at the empty seat on the couch beside her gingerly. “Get your ass on the couch before I haul you over here myself. You’re going to miss the opening sequence if you waste another second standing there looking like a lost puppy.” _

_ Naturally, Steve obeyed her. He didn’t even question her decision of making his evening into a Star Wars marathon night. By the end of Episode VI - which was only the third movie they’d seen that evening (Steve got confused at this point, asking Natasha why they’re watching a series that starts from the fourth episode instead of the first episode, with Natasha then shushing him and telling him she would explain everything later), Steve had came to a conclusion that this Star Wars series - well, it was better than he would have expected. _

_ Natasha had beamed at him when the ending credits started rolling, waiting for his reaction. She didn’t say anything, not even when he gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug. “I liked it.” He said earnestly, and Natasha nearly flopped into him in exaggerated relief. _

_ “Were you going to hit me if I said I didn’t like it?” Steve joked. _

_ Natasha shifted away naturally, shaking her head while smiling. “I wouldn’t. What I would have done is to go to Fury and ask for a reassignment of partners.” _

_ That got him chuckling. “You’re that big of a fan, huh?” _

_ She shrugged casually. “Who isn’t?” _

_ Silence stretched over them for a little bit as Natasha got up to remove the disc from the player. Steve watched her quietly with a smile on his face. “What other movies do you like?” He asked a few seconds later. _

_ She pondered for a while, then turned her head to meet his gaze. Natasha smirked. “Disney.” _

_ He must have looked more surprised than he intended, for Natasha tilted her head to the side in slight confusion. “What, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Disney.” _

_ Steve had, of course. He was ‘old’, not dead. He just didn’t expect to hear that answer from her. “Of course I have. You mean like...the animations? The princesses?” _

_ If it was anyone else, Natasha was sure she would have decked that person by now. But the person who asked the question was Steve Rogers, someone who, although they hadn’t met for long, she knew had a pure heart made out of kindness - he wasn’t mocking her, Natasha was sure of it. He was just genuinely curious of her answer. So, she smiled. “Have you ever seen Mulan?” _

_ He shook his head, of course. She made a mental note to bring him that DVD next. _

_ “I’ll add that into our list of must watch movies, then.” Natasha said, before tapping on the casing for the first episode of Star Wars. “But first, we need to finish the first three episodes of Star Wars.” _

_ “You haven’t explained to me yet.” Steve said just then, before she could pop the disc into his player. “Why did we watch episodes four to six first, before one to three?” _

_ “Because four came out first. One was an afterthought. A prequel.” Natasha explained as she made her way back to the couch. She sat down, keeping a respectable distance between them, remote control in her hands. “Episode One tells the story of Anakin Skywalker.” _

_ “Isn’t he -” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Huh.” Steve leaned back into the couch. “Interesting.” _

_ Natasha merely grinned. “Would I make you watch something that isn’t interesting?” _

_ He didn’t answer her - he just chuckled. They didn’t say anything else after that, only watching the remaining trilogy in silence, giving little reactions here and there. When Episode III ended, it was nearly 4 in the morning. Steve offered his room for her to sleep in, because he couldn’t bear the thought of sending a lady out so late in the night. But Natasha had politely declined - of course she had, they were barely acquainted - telling him that worrying over her safety should be the last thing on his mind. Steve allowed her to leave only because he believed in her words - she was the Black Widow, after all, he’d seen her in the battlefield, seen the way she fights. He knew that she would be okay. _

_ Steve just didn’t know that a decade down the road later, which may seem like million of years to some people, Steve would have realised something about Natasha Romanoff that she didn’t normally reveal to other people; Natasha rarely allows other people to care for her, but she would _ always _ be there to care for other people. _

_ Natasha had always been there for him even before Steve realised he needed help. She waltzed into his life one fateful day, an encounter which would change his life forever. She was there for him when he was adapting to the new century. She was there for him when Peggy passed, unconditionally and sincerely in the church, telling him she didn’t want him to be alone. She was there for him when Bucky and Sam had disappeared in the snap. She was there _ with _ him when he thought he was going to die, when he thought the view beside him was far more beautiful than the view in front of him. _

_ Steve hadn’t known then, that one moment after another would cause a ripple effect in his heart - that he would slowly, but surely, fall in love with her. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have known - love crept in like a quiet voice, after all. One minute he looked at her and saw his partner in SHIELD, his friend. The next, he looked at her again, and all he saw was his entire future. _

* * *

When Natasha wakes, she is in a state of disarray. There are noises around her, but she cannot seem to make out what the voices are saying - jumbled words, hurried sentences, hushed whispers. She gasps for air, finding it rather difficult to breathe, like something is weighing on her chest heavily, pressing her down, clamping against her airway. Her heart is pounding, hammering against her ribcage. She wants to move, but nothing seems to register in her mind - to even lift a finger, shift her legs, Natasha couldn’t do it, not without wincing as a sharp jolt of pain shoots through her entire body.

She doesn’t understand - she can’t seem to understand. Why is she in this state? What happened to her? Her thoughts incoherent, a blanket of confusion and haziness in her memory - she feels the panic rising within her, fear and vulnerability enveloping her - _ what is going on_, _ what is happening _ \- a surge of extreme discomfort spreading within her, unfurling from her stomach to every part of her body. 

Nothing makes sense. Her lungs are burning. Everything hurts.

Natasha wants to say something, maybe even scream. But she finds no strength in her to do it - her throat, hoarse, her mouth, dry. She wants to open her eyes. But her eyelids feel heavy, like they want to remain shut for the rest of her life. 

_ “Natasha-” _

Someone is calling for her - it’s the only thing that goes through her head, not a word, but her name. There’s a sense of familiarity in that voice speaking to her, repeating her name, pleading for her to open her eyes, but Natasha couldn’t pinpoint who the voice belonged to. Not when she hears a few voices overlapping each other at once, triggering a splitting headache that throbs relentlessly against her skull. She wishes for the pain to stop, for all the voices in her head to stop. Every breath of air she attempts to take is agonising, it feels like someone is drawing a knife across her throat, pushing it deeper and deeper without any mercy.

“_Natasha-” _

A single thought flits into her mind. Natasha suddenly remembers, just for a second, in passing; she’s supposed to be _ dead. _

An everlasting exchange, a soul for a soul - wasn’t that what was said to her when she was in Vormir? Didn’t she fight Clint to determine who had to leap over the cliff for the soul stone, for a chance to bring everyone back - _ and didn’t she win_?

Hundreds of thoughts begin to flood her mind - why is she still alive? Why does everything_ hurt?_ Did they win? Did they defeat Thanos? Or did they lose? Is that why she’s in this current state - is that why she’s alive? Had she failed? What is happening, why isn’t anything making sense? Why can’t she breathe, why is it so _ difficult _ to breathe -

“_Natasha, hang in there, you’re going to be okay _ -”

Her pulse weakens, her heart rate slows. 

_ This is how she’s going to die_, Natasha thinks - and then everything fades away.

* * *

Steve barely finishes his sentence when there’s a sudden haste of movement from the medical officers within his radius. He is pushed aside in one swift motion as he begins to pale in realisation that Natasha’s condition had gone south in just a matter of seconds.

“She’s going into shock, we need to get her to the ER,” The nurse announces, the edge in her voice apparent as she turns to regard Steve in a rushed tone. “What happened to her?” 

His eyes widen, heart racing with trepidation. Steve doesn’t know what to say - how does one explain that he’d just returned from another dimension, carrying a semi-conscious person who he thought was no longer alive? He struggles to find the words in his mouth, his eyes darting back and forth in between two other nurses throwing hurried commands to each other.

“She fell from a height. We did the best we could for spinal immobilisation,” Bruce is the one who answers the nurse in the end. Steve catches the hint of panic in his voice as he continues. “Head trauma, and possible fractures to her thoracic and lumbar spine, her pelvic-” 

“Hypovolemic?” Another nurse asks after listening to Bruce. “Or spinal shock?”

The other nurse examining Natasha shakes her head, her footsteps quickening. “What if it’s neurogenic?”

Steve feels lightheaded all of a sudden. He stops chasing after them, blocking out their voices, the medical jargons that he doesn’t understand. Steve cradles his head in his hand as the image of Natasha’s battered and bleeding body flashes vividly across his mind. 

She’d fallen from the cliff in Vormir. He’d asked for Schmidt to return her to him in exchange for the soul stone. The Red Skull had told him that it wasn’t possible, but Steve had argued with him, pleading, begging. And then Schmidt said - _ what did he say _ \- Steve groans, racking through his memory for the exchange that occurred just a few moments ago, searching frantically for the source of this uneasiness building within him. Then something clicks, and he hears Schmidt’s voice reverberating in his head - 

_ “She will not be whole. She may even be suffering. Are you sure you want her back?” _

Realisation hits him hard and fast, and his breath hitches in shock. Everything begins to fade into a noiseless background, his heart pounding, blood rushing into his head - Sam is calling his name repeatedly, Bucky is reaching for him, but Steve recoils from his touch as he stumbles onto the floor, reeling in guilt and disbelief. 

At that moment, at that time in Vormir, he didn’t think of anything else. He only wanted her back. He only wanted her alive. So when Schmidt repeated that question to him, he’d nodded. He hadn’t been thinking about the consequences of his words. He’d said yes.

Steve blinks back tears, clenching his knuckles tightly to his sides. He said yes knowing that Natasha would be in pain. He said yes, knowing that she would be suffering. _ This is all his fault. _

He snaps out of his trance, eyes searching frantically for Natasha. He couldn’t see her, not from this angle, so Steve scrambles to his feet. He’d taken no more than a step when his movement is halted by a tight clutch from Sam and Bucky, both of them pulling him back, preventing him from advancing towards the nurses disappearing into the ER with Bruce in the tow.

“Natasha,” Steve whimpers, tears streaming down his cheeks. “_Natasha_.”

“Steve,” Sam starts. “She’ll be okay, she’s a _ fighter _.”

“I want to see her.” Steve tries to wrestle himself free from their grasps, but they only tighten their arms around him. “Let me see her, please, she-”

“Steve, stop-” It’s Bucky’s turn to say something, to plead for his friend to listen to him. “-we can’t go in, we need to trust them, they know what to do.”

Steve shakes his head a few times, his face scrunching in obvious pain. “You don’t understand. It’s all my fault. It’s all _ my _fault.”

Sam exchanges a look with Bucky, neither of them saying anything. They don’t know what had transpired when Steve went back to the past to put back the stones, only that he’d returned a minute after with Natasha in his arms. As if time had started running the second Natasha returned to earth, she’d started to bleed. She’d started to wince, to feel the pain reverberating throughout her entire body, her breathing labored, difficult, heavy - all of them could see the agony etched on her face, the tears pooling in her eyelids as she whimpered for the pain to stop. 

Before any of them could truly rejoice or celebrate that they’d gotten back their sister, Bruce had screamed for Steve not to move her, and then at Sam and Bucky to call an ambulance. He’d connected the dots quicker than any of them, realising at once that Natasha was displaying symptoms of a person who’d barely survived a fall, the severity of her injury evident on her body - Clint’s words ringing in their ears; she’d leapt off the cliff, a sacrificial act, she was supposed to have _ died_. There was no time to ask Steve what had happened, why was Natasha alive when she shouldn’t be.

“I pleaded for her, I wanted her back,” Steve continues, regret laced in his tone. “But I didn’t stop to think at what cost, I wasn’t thinking, god, why am I so selfish?”

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Sam attempts to comfort him. “We all wanted her back, none of us would have even thought otherwise given the chance.”

“She’ll pull through.” Bucky adds. “Trust in her, trust in Natasha. You do, don’t you?”

Steve calms down, letting their words sink in. Bucky is right - he trusts her _ so _much, and years of friendship with Natasha had taught him that if anyone could turn the outcome of something, it was her. So he sucks in his breath, and nods his head. He knows that this is another hurdle Natasha would be able to go through. As she always would.

He just doesn't know that in the face of death and an alteration of her fate, this decision of his to bring her back has transcended beyond what Natasha could do for herself. Trust, is not something that could help in the situation that is to come.

* * *

Natasha doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep for. When she stirs, it takes her a long time to adjust to her surroundings - everything is a cloud of daze and confusion. Her mind is empty, blank. She cannot, for the life of her, remember how she’d ended up in the comforts of a hospital bed. All she knows is that she’s exhausted beyond belief, that all she could manage to do is blink - and even that takes up so much of her strength and energy - when the nurse comes over to ask her a few questions. 

The nurse tells her that she is in New York Hospital, and she accepts that information gratuitously. She wants to ask this nurse some questions, but her mind is still drawing a blank at the moment, her throat closed. She fades back into sleep a few seconds after, recalling nothing from her memory, or what she is doing in a hospital. 

Natasha doesn’t even hear someone calling her, begging for her to look at him. She doesn't know that the next time she wakes, everything would change.

* * *

Fifteen days in the ICU - that is how long Natasha had been induced before the doctors deemed her stable enough to be moved to a private ward. Fifteen days of the Avengers and everyone else dropping in and out to visit her. Fifteen days of Steve nearly losing his mind, if not because the rest of the team is there to comfort him, to remind him that Natasha is strong enough to get through this.

“It’s the red room serum in her.” Bruce acts as a translator to the reports he’d received from her attending doctor. “That’s the only explanation to how fast her cells are regenerating, how fast she’s healing.”

Tony takes the reports from Bruce with his good hand, confirming it with a sigh of relief. “Her vitals are stable. It’s a good sign, right?”

Bruce nods, meeting eyes with Clint. “A fall from that height...if it was anyone else…” He lets his sentence trail off, but the implication is glaringly clear - no one would have been able to survive that fall, not unless aided by some sort of supernatural element they’re all familiar with in a world of gods and superheroes. Even if her revival had been prompted by the Red Skull, Steve believes that without the serum running through her veins, she wouldn’t have even lasted long enough for them to bring her to the hospital.

Clint buries his head into his hands, tears in his eyes. “Thank god.” He says, then turns his head toward the quiet individual huddled by her bedside. “Thank _ you, _Cap. Thank you for bringing her back.”

Steve acknowledges his comrade by letting out the breath he isn’t aware he had been holding in. He tears his eyes away from the still sleeping figure, to look at the rest of his family. He sees Fury, Maria and Carol standing quietly in the corner, Sam and Bucky in another corner - they are all wearing small smiles of relief on their lips. He catches Tony and Bruce’s worried gaze on him, Rhodey and Pepper’s look of kindness and warmth. He smiles just a little at the way Thor is grinning, clearly elated that everything is going well, that they would soon be able to have _ their _Natasha back, safe and sound in everyone’s arms.

He settles his gaze back to Bruce eventually. Steve runs a hand through his hair in exhaustion, of not getting proper sleep in days. Though, he manages another smile. “She’ll be okay, right?”

Bruce nods with a smile that Steve deciphers as genuine. He gestures at the clipboard in his hands. “Yes. She will.”

It takes them only a few more days to realise that what Bruce had said in confidence - they were too good to be true.

* * *

The next time Natasha wakes again, her mind adjusts to her surroundings quicker than before. She stares at the ceiling above her, waiting, pondering, until she hears someone calling her softly. 

“Natasha?”

She recognises this voice, she’ll recognise this voice _ anywhere _ \- it belongs to someone she believes she’d never forget. Natasha turns her head to the side slightly, and the second their eyes meet, Steve starts to tear up. 

“Natasha, I -” He swallows the sobs coming out from his throat, repressing them as he leans forward, closer to her. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, Steve holds his breath. He sees how her face eases slowly to that of calmness. Natasha nods.

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Thank god you’re...you’re-” Steve feels the lump in his throat, unable to finish his sentence. Instead, he shakes his head and carefully covers his hand over hers. His heart drums steadily beneath him, skipping a beat when he feels Natasha squeezing his hand back gently.

“Where am I?” She whispers, so softly that Steve almost misses it.

“You’re in New York Hospital.” He answers.

“But…” Natasha takes in the ward she is in, noticing the vast stretch of space, the many flowers adorning the side tables. The first thing that comes into her mind is _ how, _how could any of them even afford this luxury of a private room? Then, she sees the one person capable of arranging this facility for her. And everything just clicks. “Tony?”

“Hey, Romanoff.” Tony greets at once, giving her a sheepish smile from where he is perched. “Miss me?”

Natasha manages a slight smile, but then it turns into a frown as quickly in a split second. “What happened to your…”

“Ah, this?” Tony glances to his side and sees the evidence of the battle with Thanos when he took the infinity gauntlet from him - a missing right arm. A price he has to pay for a decision he’d decided in a split second - one he would do again if he had to, without a doubt. “Consider it my battle scar.”

Natasha frowns, not understanding his cryptic words, but she knows enough not to prod further. 

“Nat, are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” Steve continues, worry in his eyes. 

She pauses for a few seconds before shaking her head once. “Why am I in a hospital?”

Before Steve could answer her, Clint makes a sound from the other side of her bed. When Natasha meets his gaze, her smile widens. He’s fighting not to cry, the widest grin on his face. “Because you are selfless. Because you’re a hero.”

But Natasha isn’t listening to Clint - her eyes widening as they land on the quiet individual behind him. “Fury?” Her eyes start to glisten with tears, as Fury raises his hand to acknowledge her, a smile on his face. "Natasha." He greets her warmly.

She doesn't have time to react to Fury, for Natasha’s lower lip quivers as she meets eyes with another individual near the door - “_ S-sam_? Is that you?”

Sam rushes forward to her bedside immediately. “Natasha, yes, it’s me.”

“But…” She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows. “How? When did you -”

“It’s over, Tasha.” Clint says. “Thanos is dead.”

A few seconds pass before Natasha’s smile widens in understanding. “You...you defeated Thanos.” She breathes out, a layer of relief in her tone. Natasha feels Steve tightening his grasp on her hand, and she turns her head towards him in reflex. 

“_We _did.” He states firmly, still smiling. “Without you, we wouldn’t have defeated him. You were so brave, Natasha, you were-”

Steve’s sentence trails away when he sees the confusion streaking across her face. Her gaze begins to waver. “But what did I do?” She asks, her tone uncertain. Steve breaks her gaze to look at the others - unsure of what to say, if it is even okay to tell her what had transpired. Tony shrugs just a little, but remains quiet. Bruce takes a tentative step forward. “Nat?” He calls out gently to get her attention. When Natasha sees him, she lets out a gasp of surprise. For a moment, nobody knew why there was shock streaking across her face. And then Bruce speaks, again, his tone calm and not at all judgemental; he pretends as though this is the first time Natasha has ever seen him in this form.

"Yeah, I made peace with the Hulk and merged with him into one body. It's easier this way." As though he could read her mind, Bruce explains with a slightly embarrassed smile. Even though no one is reacting out loud, they are all sharing one and the same question in their heads. Steve sinks deeper into his seat, a lump in his throat; Natasha does not remember Bruce's decision concerning the Hulk, she does not_ remember - _

Bruce continues, wasting no second. “Do you remember Vormir?”

Natasha frowns. Something stirs within her stomach, but not quite enough for her to truly know what. Her memory stays stagnant. The word sounds familiar, just hearing it out loud is enough to send a tingle down her spine, but she shakes her head in the end. “No.”

“So you don’t remember...sacrificing yourself on Vormir for the soul stone?”

Her forehead creases, as if she couldn't fathom what she'd just heard. “I did that?”

Everyone freeze in their positions. Steve darts a worried look. Only Bruce moves, making his way towards the side of Natasha’s bed.

“Nat…” There’s a long pause as Bruce tries to gather his next few words carefully. “What year do you think today is?”

“It’s...it’s…” She tries to hold her gaze on Bruce, but Natasha finds herself staring at the ceiling. She feels the dull throbbing at the base of her skull, and she senses that something is not quite right. Squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to will the pain in her head away, Natasha hears Steve beside her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to -”

“2019.” She expels, opening her eyes again. Natasha pretends she doesn’t notice the look of alarm in everyone’s faces - she settles her gaze onto Steve instead. “It’s 2019, isn’t it?”

Knowing that Natasha is searching his eyes for the truth, Steve doesn’t allow his expression to betray his thoughts. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from Natasha, who he could tell, is in a state of extreme confusion. Everyone else is holding onto their breaths, not knowing how to react to what she’d just said. 

But because Natasha is still staring at Steve, still waiting to hear an answer from him, the responsibility falls on him naturally. He inhales, taking a deep breath before answering slowly. “Nat...it’s 2023.”

Silence stretches between them after that. Steve watches how Natasha’s eyes had widened in pure surprise, her jaw dropping a little as realisation hits her. There’s a mixture of expressions spreading across her face, her eyebrows knitted together as she tries to fathom the new piece of information she’d just received.

“_Oh_.” is all that comes out of her mouth a few seconds after. Speechless, she tears her gaze away from Steve. 

He could feel his heart breaking just watching her in this state of confusion, trying to grapple with reality, of realisation that she doesn’t remember the years that have passed. If Natasha remembers today as 2019, that would mean that she remembers nothing of what she’d done after the decimation; she doesn’t remember taking over the Avengers as a leader because nobody was brave enough to shoulder and handle that responsibility after such a huge failure, she doesn’t remember taking care of children who’d lost their parents, sheltering them, providing food for all of them, she doesn’t remember the years she’d spent in the Avengers Facility with him, the comfort and consolation they’d found in each other -

Steve removes his hand from hers instantly, his heart clenches at the implication. 

If Natasha remembers today as 2019, she would remember that Steve is merely a friend. A confidant, at best. She wouldn’t remember that in the next years to come, their relationship would have quietly blossomed into something more. In all the times she’d clung onto him for comfort, staining his shirts with her tears, in all the times they’d shared a bed, finding solace in the presence of each other because that was the only way of getting any sleep, in all the times he’d kissed her, whispered into her ear that she is the only thing grounding him to reality, that she is his one and only constant left in this desolate world, and in those few times where she’d looked into his eyes and told him that she loved him, moments when there had been a ‘we’ and ‘us’ - Steve feels the tears pricking his eyes - Natasha remembers _ none _ of them. 

* * *

Steve doesn’t know how long he has been sitting on the hospital rooftop until he hears footsteps behind him. Once Natasha had fallen back into slumber just shortly after she’d seen everyone, Steve had quietly made his way upstairs, hoping to catch some air and gather his thoughts. Mostly, he is trying to be at peace with the fact that Natasha no longer remembers an entire period of time they’d shared together - could this be what Schmidt had meant when he said she wouldn’t be whole? To give her back to him, but still take something from him?

“Hey,” Steve barely lifts his head up to acknowledge the voice filling the air - Sam’s. “Are you okay?”

He pauses, then looks at him out of courtesy. Eyes meeting with Sam’s and then Bucky’s, Steve manages a small nod. “I will be.”

They sit beside him, not saying anything else, relishing in the silence of a quaint night. “At least she’s alive.” Steve breathes out - and he means it. He meant every word he’d just said, because what matters most is that Natasha is breathing, that she is _ alive _ . She may not have any memories of them together in the past few years, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t make _ more _memories. 

He finally smiles, at the same time Bucky nods his head in agreement. “Don’t worry, Steve.”

“She’ll fall in love with you again soon enough.” Sam continues Bucky’s sentence while chuckling. “Mark my words.” 

Steve keeps mum, his smile widening just a little.

Bucky speaks again. “Get some rest, Steve.”

He shakes his head. “But Natasha…”

“Will still be here when you come back tomorrow.” Sam states assuringly. “What’s there to be afraid of? You have time.” 

Bucky nods again just as Sam continues. “Things can’t possibly be worse than how they are now, Steve. Everything will be alright.” 

Eventually, Steve relents, taking in Sam’s words with a breath of relief. “I suppose you are right.”

He grins. “I’m always right.”

Sam couldn’t be more wrong in his life. 

* * *

The next morning, when Steve stirs on the makeshift bed beside Natasha’s, he is greeted by the redhead staring blankly at him, eyebrows knitted together, as if trying to piece together puzzles that wouldn’t fit and didn’t make any sense. Immediately, Steve is on his feet, rushing to her. 

“Morning,” He greets her warmly, pushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. That gesture is enough to make Natasha flinch a little. “Steve?” She asks in a tone that he reads as utter confusion. His smile falters. “Where is this place? Why am I here?”

For a second there, Steve frowns. But he eases his expression quickly, not wanting to alarm her. “New York Hospital. You sustained some injuries in the process of defeating Thanos.” He explains in the simplest manner possible - but his caution proves futile as Natasha’s eyes widen in complete disbelief. 

“_What_?” She whispers, her tone incredulous. One word is enough to make Steve’s heart pound - he knows almost at once, that despite everyone’s assurance that she would be okay, that there is something wrong with Natasha. He knows it at once, from the way she is curling away from him, the tone of her voice a clear sign that Natasha does not believe in what he’d just told her. That she thinks he is _ lying. _

“Natasha?” He asks gently, softly, even though his heart is pounding hard against his chest, trepidation building within him. “Do you know what year is today?”

Steve holds his breath. 

“2019.” She answers a beat after. His heart sinks.

* * *


	2. Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where it all goes downhill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **disclaimer**: the bits and pieces of medical related information in this fic are sourced from various med and psychology journals/articles/case studies (patients H.M and K.C) /websites - yes, i read through anything and everything I could find because i didn't want to write something that is inaccurate. However, as I am not a med student or a doctor or psychologist, there are still chances of that happening so if it is so, I apologise in advance.
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy this update! Thank you for reading/commenting, I truly appreciate it :)

Steve paces to and fro, waiting for Bruce. The latter came to the hospital an hour ago, after he'd called him, after explaining to him that Natasha still thinks it is 2019, even though he already told her yesterday that it is 2023. When Bruce arrived, he didn’t say much to Steve, only telling him that he needs to speak to her attending doctor, and possibly get him to do more tests, maybe a CT or an MRI scan on Natasha.

"You know what's wrong with her." Steve had said before Bruce left to do what he has to. The latter only stared at him, before shaking his head twice.

"I have my suspicions but I can't come to a conclusion yet, Steve. This isn't my speciality." Bruce sighed in obvious worry. "I'll call someone in to assist. You know him."

"Who?" Steve asked, guard immediately up.

"Stephen Strange." Bruce replied, and without offering further explanation, he left. Steve understands, though, knowing Dr Strange's background as a neurosurgeon before he became a sorcerer. A few moments after, a few nurses came by to wheel Natasha away for her scan, and Steve is left with no choice but to wait.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” His thoughts are interrupted, and Steve looks up to meet the soft gaze of Pepper Potts. She extends an arm out, a can of coffee in her hands. Steve takes it graciously, and manages a small smile in return just as Pepper takes the empty seat beside him. 

They fall into a comfortable silence, until Pepper starts again. “I understand how you feel, you know.”

Steve turns his head slightly to look at her. “Yeah?” He asks.

Pepper nods. “When Tony was in three surgeries. What he did during that battle, it almost scared me to death.”

He knows, of course - he was with her during that period of time, silently praying that while he had lost someone who means the world to him, he’d hoped that Pepper wouldn’t. 

“That feeling of being helpless.” She continues. “Like there’s nothing you can do but wait. And hope that someone up there would hear your prayers, and just...just give you another chance at happiness.” 

“I thought I was already given that.” Steve mumbles under his breath. “Another chance at happiness, when she came back to me. And when she woke up. But now...it scares me, Pepper. What if...”

Pepper shakes her head once. “Don’t.” She says. “You don’t know what is going to happen.”

“Being in this line of work for so many years, I know that whatever it is, it won’t be good.” He heaves a sigh of frustration, aimed not at Pepper, but at himself. “Especially since I got her back by begging the Red Skull.”

“But you got her _ back _.” Pepper insists in a tone that has him glancing at her. She smiles a little. “You got her back, isn’t that what matters the most?”

“Have I, though?” Steve asks, his expression pained, his eyes teary. “Natasha...she flinched when I touched her. She-”

“It isn’t because of you.” Pepper states firmly. “She’s overwhelmed by everything else, but_ never _you. There will always be a part of her, somewhere deep within Natasha, that cares for you, that loves you. She may have forgotten the year, but - ”

Steve closes his eyes, taking her words in. “- she will never forget you.”

He exhales steadily, letting Pepper’s words sink in - his heart flutters a little at the truth of her statement, remembering words Natasha had told him just a little over a few months ago, before the time heist, before she’d gone to Vormir - with her head on his chest, listening to the steady drumming of his heart. It was one of the few moments when Steve believed he was finally at the right place at the right time, that he was finally home.

_ “No matter what happens in the future, I will always remember you. And even if I don’t,” Natasha reached for his hand, taking it into hers, then placing it gently over her heart. “I’ll remember you here.” _

* * *

  
  


Natasha returns an hour later, sound asleep. Pepper gives Steve a small smile, _ I’ll keep her company until you return, _and Steve nods in gratitude. She touches his arm gently, before following the nurses back into Natasha’s private ward. 

When Bruce rounds the corner, Steve hastens his steps to meet him. "So?"

Bruce shakes his head. "I filed it under an emergency, but it takes time, Steve.”

“When will the results be ready?” 

“Earliest tomorrow, according to the radiologist.” 

Steve bit his lower lip, just so he doesn’t snap at him by accident - it isn’t his fault, after all. Bruce has no control over how long it would take before the results are completed. He nods in resolution, finally turning away. 

Bruce hesitates. “Steve?” 

He looks at Bruce again. Steve doesn’t need to reply him - Bruce isn’t waiting for him to give him an answer, he wants him to look at him, to read the expression on his face, to decipher what is going through his mind. And Steve knows. Just one look, and he could tell what Bruce is thinking. 

“I need you to be prepared.” Bruce mutters under his breath, his eyes sombre. He looks tired, for some reason. “It wouldn’t...the results may not be...”

It hurts him to nod, but he does, anyway. “Thank you, Bruce. For everything.”

When they enter the waiting lounge, Sam and Clint immediately leap up from the couch, both bearing similar expressions. Tony jerks his head up from where he is sitting, while Thor and Bucky angle their bodies to look at the both of them. There’s a new visitor who’d just reached - Wanda, the young woman bearing a clear look of distress.

“So? What’s wrong with Natasha?” Sam is the first to direct a question into Bruce’s direction. “Why can’t she remember things from yesterday?” 

Clint continues before Bruce has the chance to say anything. “Could it be a side effect from all the drugs in her blood?” 

"Might it be the serum causing such distress on her?" Thor speaks for the first time that day, and hearing that question from him causes Steve to consider that possibility. But when he glances at Bruce, the latter lets out a loud sigh. 

“I can’t be too sure, so I can’t say anything yet.” He is adamant on keeping his lips sealed. “I...I’ll let you know when I receive the results.”

When Pepper comes into the waiting lounge a few minutes later, it is to tell them that Natasha has awoken, and that she'd asked for Bruce. He exchanges a careful glance with Steve, who nods and gestures for him to go - even though Steve feels a slight twist in his heart, even though he knows that what happened between Bruce and Natasha had occurred many forgotten years ago. He shakes the thoughts away, chiding himself for thinking about something that didn’t matter anymore. 

Bruce returns moments after, bearing a sombre looking expression. Everyone looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell them what had transpired in the private ward. Bruce takes a deep breath before explaining. “She wanted to know what is going on, why she’s in a hospital, and why she had to take those tests and scans.” Then he glances at Steve. “She finds it difficult to believe what Steve told her this morning.”

Steve looks away, his voice a whisper. “I told her she sustained injuries from battling Thanos.”

“So what did you say, Bruce?” Tony is the one that breaks the ensuing silence, directing a question at Bruce. 

Bruce sinks into the closest chair, and shakes his head. “I told her Steve wasn’t lying. That she is here because of Thanos, and that he’s defeated. She seemed relieved to hear that, but I don’t think she’s all convinced.” He meets Steve’s gaze again. “I think you should talk to her, Steve.”

_ Because you know her best, _ the implication hidden beneath Bruce’s words, but nonetheless lingering in the air. Even Clint leans back in quiet agreement, knowing what had transpired over the years that have passed when he’d gone off the radar, how much they - Steve and Natasha - mean to each other. He nods once, catching Steve’s eyes, telling him to _ go _. 

Steve looks around the room and sees no objection. They’re all smiling slightly at him, encouraging him to go ahead. He gives them a silent _ thank you, _and heads to Natasha’s ward wearing his heart on his sleeve.

* * *

“Hey,” He greets her softly the second their eyes meet. Steve smiles, making his way across the ward gingerly. Natasha manages a small smile in return, her eyes following his every movement as he takes the empty chair beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Lost.” She answers, her eyes settling on the ceiling above her. “I’ve had better days.”

Steve keeps mum, his mouth dry, suddenly not knowing what to say or how to respond to her. She speaks again, after a long stretch of silence in the air. “Steve? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Nat.” 

Natasha diverts her gaze towards Steve again. “How did we defeat Thanos? Weren’t the stones destroyed?” 

“Scott Lang - Antman -he showed up in front of the facility one day.” Steve begins explaining, calmly, so as to not alarm her. “He had an idea of returning to the past to obtain the stones using the quantum realm. We were split into a few teams to retrieve the stones. I went back to 2012 with Tony and Scott to obtain the mind stone...” 

Steve’s sentence trails off just as Natasha asks, “Where did I go?”

His heart clenches, knowing that one question would lead to another - he isn’t sure if he is ready to tell Natasha what had happened to her. But she’s still looking at him, her eyes almost pleading as she tries to comprehend everything. Steve decides to answer her slowly. “You and Clint went to a planet called Vormir. That was where the soul stone was located.”

“What happened there?”

The second the question leaves her, Steve’s gaze wavers immediately. He struggles to say those words out loud, struggles to even recall that minute that turned his entire world upside down. 

“Steve?” She prompts him with a raised eyebrow at the realisation that he’d gone mute. “What’s wrong?”

“To get the soul stone,” Steve eventually swallows the lump in his throat. “one has to sacrifice a loved one. You didn’t let Clint do it, so you…”

The revelation should shock her, but Natasha’s face remains impassive, _ too _ calm for Steve’s liking. She doesn’t have to say anything for Steve to know what she is thinking. His heart sinks further - it saddens him that she thinks so little of her life, the value of it measurable by a single act under the guise of atonement, when it _ shouldn’t _be that way. 

“It was a difficult time for me, Natasha.” Steve continues softly, hoping that somehow, his words which echoed his feelings, would reach her. That they would tell her that her sacrificial act, though noble, had hurt him, had cut his heart into two.

“Why?” She asks, genuinely confused. “You were able to get the soul stone and save the universe. Shouldn’t that be something worth celebrating?”

He shakes his head in disagreement. “When Clint came back, but you _ didn’t._..it felt like I lost a part of myself that day.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. Steve wills himself not to look away. “The stone matters _ nothing _ in comparison to you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Natasha whispers in return, disbelief in her eyes. “One life in return for millions. It’s a simple equation.”

Hearing those words from Natasha causes a surge of frustration within him. He suppresses his emotion with another shake of his head. “It’s _ not_.” He states, a little too firmly, because Natasha’s forehead creases in surprise at how strong he is reacting to her statement. “It’s _ never _simple when it comes to you. I thought I’d lost you forever, Natasha.”

Steve sees how she opens her mouth a little, as if to say something, but then closes it at the last second, deciding against whatever it is that she wanted to say - she doesn’t have to, for Steve knows exactly what is running through her mind. “You had no idea what I had to go through every day, waking up without you by my side.” He whispers, yearning to hold her hand into his. But he doesn’t.

The way he is acting - something quiet stirs within Natasha, her heart fluttering. “Steve, I want you to tell me the truth.” She says, matching her tone with his - soft and melancholic. “Did something..._happen _ between us?”

He holds her gaze in his, managing a small smile. Steve debates for a few seconds if he should tell her the truth, wanting very much to remind her that he is in love with her, but hesitating over the possibility of the truth being overwhelming. But he sees the look behind her eyes, reads it at once - a look of honesty and assurance that she could handle this, and Steve decides he would tell her. 

_"Yes_.” It’s a monosyllable packed with so much history, that when he utters the word out loud, he feels fresh tears welling in his eyelids. 

It takes a few seconds for her reaction to sink in, but eventually, Steve sees the gradual smile blossoming across Natasha’s face. Much to his surprise, she reaches for his hand, clasping it around her fingers with as much strength as she has within her. 

“Honestly, Steve? I may not remember,” Natasha says slowly, but with comfort and ease in her tone. “but I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

That sentence alone sends a jolt of electricity down Steve’s spine, hope unfurling within him. He squeezes her hand in return, his face breaking into the widest possible grin he could muster. “Oh, _ Nat_.” He breathes out in pure relief.. “I...I thought you wouldn’t-”

“What, that I’d forget you?” She chuckles softly. “Rogers, it’s 2019 for me, not 2009.”

He shakes his head. “I know, but…” Eyes locked on how she’d curled her hand around his - the gesture alone sends butterflies scurrying into his heart. “This morning, I thought I had lost you again.”

Silence ensues after that, as Natasha continues to stare at Steve, watching his every movement, every gesture. The way his eyes are still glistening with obvious tears of happiness, the way he is latching onto her hand as though it is his lifeline. Her heart reacts to all of this, it reacts in a way that tells her that her well-being means a _ lot _ to Steve - even if she does not remember what had happened that changed everything between them. All of this affection, this sort of _ intimacy _ Steve is displaying towards her - it doesn’t feel weird. Her heart is telling her that - the way it is beating at how Steve is looking at her, and Natasha relishes in the fact that he is right beside her, even after all the years that have lapsed, that he is _ still _beside her.

She just wishes she remembers.

Because deep down, Natasha understands why it doesn’t feel weird finding out that there is _ something _ between them now. She’d known of this since some years ago, as much as she didn’t wish to admit then, that Steve had been different. He never was just a _ friend, _or a work partner. Every stolen glance she had given him, every lingering gaze and touch - Natasha hadn’t known when it first started, but by the events of the Sokovia Accords, it had been obvious to her that something had sparked between them. She just didn’t acknowledge it, pushing the matters of her heart deep within her, ignoring the confusion that had lasted over a long period of time. 

“You wouldn’t. I’m here now, aren’t I?” Natasha whispers, still smiling. “You would never lose me, Steve.”

Natasha watches the way Steve’s expression changes from concern to utter bliss hearing that sentence from her; he leans down to press his lips against her knuckles, carefully, lightly. 

She feels a little lightheaded, her eyes drooping; Natasha wants to ask him more questions - _ how _ and _ when _ \- but she bit her lower lip, swallowing them. When Steve tells her about the pivotal moment that changed their relationship, Natasha wants to be able to savour each and every second, committing the story into her memory forever. She doesn’t think she can accord him that attention now, so she offers him a smile instead.

_ Maybe she’ll ask him tomorrow, _ Natasha thinks, _ she has time anyway. _

* * *

**THE PAST**

_ Steve didn’t tell Natasha this, but the words she’d told him in Sokovia, when they were on the brink of death - or so they thought - struck a chord in him that he wasn’t ready to explore. In that serene moment when she’d told him that there were worse ways to die, and that the view was beautiful, he remembered being speechless, remembered mentally agreeing with her, silently adding that if anything, at least he would die with her. _

_ If Steve had to pinpoint the exact moment when he felt something shifted in him, it was probably that moment. _

_ He was looking at her when she said those words, observing the little smile she’d given, her expression beautifully calm and peaceful for someone believing that her life was about to come to an end. An acceptance of her fate, and how readily she had been in letting go. Steve remembered forgetting how to breathe. _

_ A week after, Steve bumped into Natasha in the Stark Tower. She was perched on the bar stool in the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall when he entered. She didn’t even need to glance over to know it was him - Natasha greeted him even before he said anything. _

_ “Done with your morning jog, grandpa?” _

_ He chuckled - it was an inside joke between them. “Why are you up so early today?” Steve asked as he reached into the cabinet to retrieve his mug. As he started making his coffee right across Natasha, the redhead simply smirked. _

_ “You’re not the only morning riser, Rogers.” She said, drumming her fingers on the marble island between them. _

_ He quirked an eyebrow, returning her smirk with one of his own. “Says the person who pushed and kicked me when I tried waking her up during a mission some time ago…” _

_ “Are you still holding that against me?” Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Can’t you find something else instead? Something more recent?” _

_ “Like what?” He prompted her as a joke, not expecting her to answer in all seriousness. _

_ “Like how I inevitably push people away without even meaning to.” Natasha had replied, her tone coming off as carefree, but Steve sensed that slight edge in that tone. His smile disappeared slowly, knowing the implication behind her sentence - it was about Bruce, about how he’d disappeared from the face of the earth and was no longer contactable by anyone in the team. _

_ Silence engulfed them as Natasha continued eating her breakfast. She didn’t look at him, not even when Steve spoke again seconds later. _

_ “I’m sorry about Banner.” _

_ A pause. And then; “There’s no need to be sorry.” She shrugged, her face void of any emotions. ”It’s honestly not a big deal.” _

_ Steve didn’t know what compelled him to say it, but he did anyway. “Would you give it another try?” _

_ “Give him another try?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, to which he shook his head. _

_ “Love.” Steve said plainly. _

_ Her gaze lingered on him a few seconds longer than necessary. And then she looked away, silence stretching between them again. He didn’t push her for an answer, so Steve went back to drinking his coffee. A moment later, Tony entered the kitchen, muttering his good mornings to the both of them. They greeted him back politely - and that was it. _

_ She never gave him an answer that morning. It came only days after, when Steve had forgotten he even asked that question. They were sorting out documents, some reports on Sokovia, when Natasha broke the silence in the air. _

_ “If I find the right person.” Natasha had said out of the blue, without a warning. Steve had raised an eyebrow in confusion, his hand stilled on the document in front of him. _

_ “What?” _

_ “You asked if I would give love another try.” She explained simply, turning her head away. There was a sort of wishful look etched on her face that Steve noticed, but he didn’t point it out. “I would, only if I find the right person. But the odds of that happening are close to none, so I guess we’re stuck with each other, partner.” _

_ He smiled at that. “Aren’t I the luckiest?” _

_ Natasha gave him a smug grin. “Thank you for that kind acknowledgement.” _

_ “You should savour every moment with me. Cherish all the memories.” Steve teased. “Who knows, age might really just catch up with me one day.” _

_ “Hmm, maybe I should,” She went along with the joke, still grinning. “After all, a man out of time with super soldier serum running in his veins? Maybe this is all just a figment of my imagination.” _

_ “Aw,” Steve placed a hand over his chest in mock exaggeration. “are you saying that I'm a dream?” _

_ “Actually,” Natasha laughed. “I was thinking you were more of a nightmare.” _

_ He chortled. “What?” _

_ “Come on, Rogers,” She said. “When was the last time you’ve gone out on dates?” _

_ Steve raised an eyebrow. “What does that got to do with anything you just said?” _

_ “Captain America not getting any girls even after all that he has done for his country?” Natasha waved her hands in the air dramatically. “This is a humanitarian crisis. A _ nightmare _ .” _

_ “I don’t know why you’re so worried about my love life.” He laughed, recalling how insistent she’d been in setting him up with girls from SHIELD two years back. _

_ “I’m being a good friend.” She retorted easily. “Do you honestly expect Sam to be the person giving you this conversation?” _

_ They fall into laughter after that. Steve spoke again after they’d both managed to calm down. “Look, I appreciate your concern, really. But my non-existent love life isn’t a first world problem.” He met her gaze at that exact moment. “Besides, I already have you by my side. Don’t think I need anyone else.” _

_ Something flashed across Natasha’s eyes at that very second, her forehead creasing ever so slightly - but it was gone in a matter of two seconds, before Steve could even attempt to decipher what it could possibly mean. She eased into a smile, running a hand through her hair. “Careful, Rogers.” Natasha stated lightly, resting her chin against her hand. “People overhearing you might misunderstand.” _

_ The way she smiled at him - Steve knew at once that she was flirting. Years ago, he would have blushed at that realisation, stammering, but this time, after two years of knowing her, Steve knew better than to give her that satisfaction of thinking he was still that bumbling, awkward idiot who didn’t know how to deal with pretty girls. He leaned forward, a little too closely into her usual proximity, because Steve saw the slight surprise crossing her face in that split second. But Natasha didn’t flinch, her eyes remain trained on him. _

_ “Why?" He challenged her. “So what if people misunderstood my words? Let them think we are together, we can handle that. Don't you think so?” _

_ “Tell you what I think, Rogers,” Natasha smiled, then leaned into his ear. She whispered. “I say that if we got together, _ you _ won’t be able to handle _ me _ .” _

_ He was amused, to say the least. But Steve didn’t back down, whispering back. “Is that a challenge, Romanoff?” _

_ “It is if you want it to be.” She replied, then pulled back. _

_ Steve saw the way she smiled coyly, her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement and a tinge of excitement. He chuckled under his breath, straightening his back. When Steve didn’t reply, Natasha stood, wanting to move a stack of papers onto the other table, believing that their conversation was over. _

_ It was purely by instinct, but Steve reached out tentatively, curling his hand around her wrist to halt her movement. She turned to face him, a little confused. He stood up as well, taking a step towards her so that he was towering over her figure. Natasha didn’t seem fazed, but she had to tilt her head up to really look at him. That was when he spotted it - the slight hint of red colouring her cheeks. _

_ That was a first - Steve thought to himself. It pleased him just a little to know that he was capable of making the Black Widow blush. _

_ “Natasha,” He started, his voice barely audible, only loud enough for her to hear him. “That’s a dangerous proposition to make.” _

_ “Why?” She asked without missing a beat, ignoring the way her heart was beating beneath her chest. _

_ Steve didn’t answer her right away; instead he released his grip around her wrist, just so he could rest his hands on her hips instead - he didn’t know what made him do that, but Steve realised at once that this was the most intimate he’d ever gotten to Natasha outside of missions. Sure, while they were working, they’ve had a few inevitable moments borne out of reflex - like how she’d kissed him on the escalator, how he’d held her close to protect her from danger - but this, this was almost out of natural instinct. _

Because I’m attracted to you,_ Steve almost wanted to say, _ because I want to kiss you _ . He stopped himself at the very last second though, and just like that, he snapped himself from this trance, dropping his hands from her hips and taking a step back. _

_ He pretended he didn’t notice the slight look of disappointment streaking across her face. Steve mustered a smile, easing back to being a tease. “I have way too many baggage for you to bear.” _

_ He was well aware that he hadn’t quite answered her question, but Natasha took it as it was. She returned his smile easily, the colour on her cheeks disappearing. “That makes the two of us.” Natasha uttered, then dropped the topic altogether as she flitted to the other desk. _

_ Steve found his thoughts wandering from time to time; what would have happened if he didn’t pull back - if he’d just leaned down to kiss her. Like many other missed opportunities, Steve would never know the answer to this question, only that there was an ‘almost’, a moment that he was sure neither of them would ever be able to forget. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Perhaps it was because of what Natasha told him, perhaps it was because she’d smiled at him assuringly, telling him that he wouldn’t lose her, but Steve slept soundly through the night, an act that has proven to be a privilege for him these days. When he wakes, it is with a smile on his face as he glances over to her sleeping figure. The makeshift bed squeaks a little when he pushes himself from it - he’d stilled, worried that the sound would wake her up. 

Seeing that there is no movement coming from Natasha, Steve exhales. He reaches forward to brush her hair from her face, resting a palm against her cheek lightly. Steve doesn’t know how long he stood there, just watching the rise and fall of her chest - an obvious indication that she really is here, that this isn’t a dream. Just days ago, he’d believed she was truly gone from this world. Just days ago, he’d still been in deep denial, still grieving over the loss of the woman he loves. 

He is so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the soft knocks on the door - Bruce enters a few seconds after, and the movement pulls him out from his reverie. Their eyes meet.

Bruce is wearing a solemn expression on his face, and Steve feels his heart sinking. He tries not to come to a premature conclusion, but the second Bruce gestures for him to go outside, Steve just knows that he didn’t come bearing good news.

He joins Bruce and the others back in the waiting lounge - none of them except Pepper had left overnight. Everyone perk up the second they entered, their expressions weary and tired.

“The radiologist worked overnight to speed up the process.” Bruce announces softly, eyes not quite meeting anyone’s. He is hesitating now, and everyone holds their breath in anticipation and worry. “I...I’ve seen parts of the report.” 

His voice seems to become smaller as he continues. “It’s not good.”

No amount of preparation would have prevented Steve from feeling nauseous all of a sudden - he could feel the blood rushing into his head as he struggles to maintain upright. This is his worst fear, and he hasn’t even heard the entire report from Bruce.

“Will the serum in her help? Like how it is helping her other injuries?” Steve asks in desperation, clinging onto one last strand of hope -

“I’m afraid not, Steve. This isn’t about cells regeneration anymore.” Bruce’s voice is barely audible now, as if he is afraid to acknowledge this fact. “It isn’t something that the serum could repair.”

_ Repair, _ Steve struggles to swallow the lump lodged in his throat as the room turns cold with worry, _ Bruce had used the word ‘repair’, what does that even mean? That there’s a part of her that is broken? _

Tony shakes his head, breaking the silence a few seconds after. “Why not?”

“I _ should _ have known, I should have at least _ suspected _ that there are other side effects.” Bruce ignores Tony’s question, clearly frustrated as he starts to pace back and forth. “Her hippocampus and median temporal lobe sustained severe injuries from the impact of the fall -” 

“Bruce, please speak in English.” Clint interrupts as gently as he could, even though there’s panic strewn all over his face.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He grimaces in apology, shaking his head in a hurry. “The temporal lobe and the hippocampus are parts of a brain. The hippocampus is located in the median temporal lobe and is associated with the formation and storage of a person’s declarative memory.” 

“Declarative memory?” Thor asks.

“When you consciously recall something, like a doctor’s appointment, or a dinner date. That type of memory.” Bruce slumps his shoulders, as though in defeat - it is subtle, but Steve sees it. Before he could say anything, or ask a follow up question, Tony stands abruptly.

“I need...I can’t…” Tony is shaking his head, his face a ghostly white. Without another word, without waiting for anyone to ask him what is wrong, he leaves the lounge in a haste. Steve’s heart pounds as he watches him leave, knowing that whatever it is that Bruce had just explained, it is evident that Tony has understood its implication completely. 

And for him to leave the room abruptly, as though he couldn’t stand being in this place for any longer - no matter how positive Steve is trying to be, he knows that the implication couldn’t possibly be anything good. All at once, Steve remembers Schmidt’s words in that instance - it hits him like a tidal wave, his blood running cold. 

No one moves, everyone is holding their breath, waiting for someone to break the silence in the air. Sam does, in the end. “Does Natasha have amnesia?” He braves himself to ask the question no one wants to, in fear of the answer they would receive. “It is why she thinks this year is 2019, right?”

“It’s…in a way, yes. But-” Bruce shakes his head repeatedly. “-it could have been worse.”

Steve feels his heart lurching into his throat. Clint pleads. “Bruce, what are you not telling us?”

“At least she’s alive, right? It could have been worse.” Bruce repeats loudly, as though he is stating a fact meant to comfort himself. He is unable to meet eyes with anyone else, especially not Steve. “With injuries to the hippocampus and median temporal lobe...Natasha...she…”

They wait, even though it is killing them to know exactly what is going on with Natasha. They’ve all guessed as much that she has amnesia, but that doesn’t necessarily mean nothing can be done about it, right? Steve sucks in his breath, willing for his heart to stop pounding so quickly, to worry over something that isn’t definite - he could deal with amnesia, Steve thinks, weren’t there cases of people who had amnesia, who eventually recovered and remembered everything again? And even so, Natasha would still be able to live her life like she used to, wouldn’t she?

“It isn’t the amnesia you are familiar with.”

Everyone whips their head to the direction of the voice who had answered the question on behalf of Bruce; it belongs to Stephen Strange, his voice unheard of for weeks, ever since the battle with Thanos. He is holding a brown folder - test reports, results from the scans, Steve guesses. If anyone is surprised by his sudden presence, to see him standing by the door, no one showed any indication. Bruce did say he would call him over - Stephen is an expert in the human brain, after all. If anyone has answers, it is definitely him.

Stephen continues calmly, his demeanour professional. “She has anterograde amnesia.” 

For a second, no one reacts to his statement, they do not know what it implies, quirking their eyebrows, imploring the sorcerer for an elaboration. Stephen exchanges a careful look with Bruce, the latter looking down in desolation. 

“The symptoms vary according to individuals but in most cases, due to damage to the hippocampus, the patient would not be able to remember near events leading to the incident that caused the amnesia.” Stephen elaborates. “Which is why Natasha thinks it is still 2019.”

“That’s anterograde amnesia?” Wanda speaks up quietly from the side.

He shakes his head. “It’s one of the effects of it, but...no. That’s not quite what anterograde amnesia is.”

“Then what _ is it_?” Clint asks, losing his patience. 

“A patient suffering from anterograde amnesia loses the ability to store declarative memories. In other words,” Stephen hesitates. “she will no longer be able to form or retain new memories.”

Steve feels as though someone had just punched him right in the gut, knocking all the air out from him. He crashes into the chair behind him, his eyes widening at every passing second as Stephen’s words slowly sink in. 

“New memories?” Sam asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “You mean…”

“Every time she wakes up to a new day,” Bruce is staring into thin air, his voice constricting. “She forgets things from yesterday.”

The second he hears that, Steve almost forgets to breathe. 

“You’re lying.” Clint says, his tone a complete disbelief. “You can’t be...you can’t be serious.”

Stephen doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks toward Bruce and hands him the folder. He hesitates for a moment, eyes not meeting anyone’s. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But _ you _ can,” Steve finally finds his voice. His expression pained as he catches Stephen’s sombre gaze. “Surely there is something you can do.”

Stephen allows him a few seconds of hope. He doesn’t react to Steve’s statement.

“Surely there is a way for her to retain her memories.” Steve continues, almost desperately as he avoids looking at Bruce’s dejected expression, an expression he knows to be that of despair, one that is void of any hope. “There has to be a way for us to fix this. Right, Bruce?”

There’s a short pause. Bruce doesn’t look at him, he _ couldn’t _ look at him. 

“Say something.” Steve pleads, then turns to look at the quiet god beside him. “Thor? Is there anything from Asgard which may help? Wanda? What if...” Steve doesn’t continue his sentence, observing how the younger female had widened her eyes. Even Thor’s expression seems pained, more than anything. He shakes his head. “Or...or Shuri might know something, I could contact T’challa. There’s _ got _ to be a way to make her better -”

“There isn’t. Her scans and reports are clear.” Stephen speaks from the corner quietly. “You can’t defy science.”

If they are living in a world without gods and superheroes, that statement would have held water. But they’re not, and the irony of the words coming from Stephen Strange himself is not lost. Steve scoffs.

“_ You _defied science, didn’t you?” He retorts, narrowing his eyes in accusation. “I’ve read your files. I know what happened to you.”

Stephen remains unfazed, turning to look at him. “You know that’s different.”

“Why is it different?” Steve asks exasperatedly. “Why must it be different?”

Stephen sighs, then shakes his head firmly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say that. _Don’t_-” 

Steve would have persisted in his argument, if not because his enhanced hearing picks up the hurried steps that are approaching the waiting lounge. He turns towards the door in an instant, and watches how it slides open, revealing Tony on the other side.

“Cap?” He says, a little breathless, as though he’d been running. Steve knows what he is about to say even before he said it. “She’s awake.”

* * *


	3. Pre-Chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Natasha finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't (that) sad me thinks! I hope you enjoy reading!

Before Steve enters her ward, Stephen introduces him to Christine Palmer, one of the doctors of New York Hospital and his trusted confidant. He tells him that Christine is on board with assisting in Natasha’s case, that she is one of the best doctors in the hospital, and that she would act as his shadow physician, given that he has technically left his past as a neurosurgeon behind. 

Christine gives him a warm smile, extending her hand for him to shake. Steve takes it out of politeness, but his heart is screaming for him to rush into Natasha’s room, to see her and verify this_ condition _ of hers by himself. 

“We need to discuss something with you.” Stephen says, and that gets him to stop fidgeting. The sorcerer regards him carefully before continuing his sentence. “Christine proposed we do some simple memory test with Natasha to gauge the severity level of her amnesia.”

Steve frowns, though not entirely opposing to that idea. “How will you conduct the test?”

“I’ve prepared a set of words that are unrelated to each other.” Christine explains. “What Natasha has to do is to repeat those words at intervals of time.”

“Intervals?” 

“Yes, we’ll do a 30 seconds interval, followed by 10 minutes, then 30 minutes. If all goes well, we’ll try again in intervals of hours - every two hours until she goes to sleep at night.” 

Noticing that Steve looks a little worried, Stephen places a hand gently on Christine’s shoulder, a sign seeking permission to add on to what she’d said. Christine simply nods, darting glances in between the two men. 

Stephen starts. “There is a reason why we believe it is important to conduct this test. In usual cases of anterograde amnesia, patients will not be able to remember new facts learned in just spans of minutes.”

Steve feels his blood turning cold, his heart sinking. But Stephen continues after a short pause. “From what we gathered from Dr. Banner, Natasha could still remember all that was told to her until she went to sleep. Could you attest to that?”

He nods in the affirmative. 

Stephen shares a knowing but careful look with Christine, who manages to smile. When she turns back to look at Steve, he notices the glint of optimism in her eyes. “We can’t be too sure yet Steve, but we think that Natasha's condition is rare, and that she is able to store new memories in a significantly longer period than most patients can.” 

_ Hope, _ Steve thinks, _ is fickle, dangerous and fragile_. But in that moment of hearing those words from Dr. Strange, Steve chooses to hope. To believe that his words could be true. So he nods, understanding the purpose of the test. “Thank you.” He sincerely says.

And that is how Steve enters the ward with Christine tailing him quietly. At the sound of the door sliding gently to the side, Natasha diverts her attention from the trees outside her window, meeting Steve’s eyes from across the room. She doesn’t smile, and Steve notices the look of distress on her face. His heart clenches, though he forces himself to smile.

“Natasha,” He greets her as warmly as he could, making his way to her bedside gingerly. “did you sleep -”

“What’s going on, Steve?” Natasha interrupts him, her voice nearly pleading. “I don’t understand, why am I even here? I saw Tony, and he...he lost an arm, but he wouldn’t tell me what happened. I _ don’t _understand.”

Hearing that is all the confirmation that he needs to verify Dr. Strange and Bruce’s words. Steve feels the tears rising within him, but he fights to suppress them from welling on his eyelids - the last thing he wants is for Natasha to panic even _ more _.

“Nat, _ love_,” The word spills out even before Steve could stop himself. If Natasha is surprised to hear that, she doesn’t indicate it - she wants to sit up, but the rush of movement causes her to slump back against the bed, an unwilling groan leaving her. He reaches for her hand immediately. “I’ll explain everything to you, I promise, but there is something Dr. Palmer has to do first."

That's when Natasha notices the other individual lingering by the door. She raises an eyebrow, before turning to look at Steve again. "Is...is something wrong with me?"

He tightens the grip on her hand. "Natasha, what did you do yesterday?" He asks gently, as if it is just any other question. "Tell me everything, Nat."

She is silent for a few seconds, her eyes distant as she tries to recall what she did the day before. "I was just...I didn't do much, I was at the gym...and then in my room. Tried to eat dinner but..." Natasha struggles to continue, tears suddenly clouding her vision. Steve watches how she’s struggling to find the right words, and seeing her teary eyes is enough to send him reeling a little, a flash of painful memory streaking across his eyes.

She isn't someone who would cry easily - the Black Widow _ never _ cries. She'd been taught from a tender age to always bottle up her emotions, no matter how much it would hurt or how much she would suffer - Natasha was taught to swallow all of those sorrows down like jagged pills, forced to deal with the bitter aftertaste by herself later. 

It seems that being an Avenger had softened her; for if Natasha remembers today as 2019, she would remember the tremendous agony that had befallen upon her during that period of time. Of guilt and torment that were borne out of their - _ her - _ failure to defeat Thanos and restore half of the population. She would remember all the nights that she couldn't sleep, all the moments she'd teared up subconsciously because everything she thought about only reminded her of all the casualties, how she had _ failed_.

When living became merely a routine to survive, when surviving turned into torture, anguish rippling through every core of her body - in 2019, Natasha was living in a nightmare she couldn’t crawl out from. In 2019, she wished she was _ dead. _

Steve remembers all of that as though it was only yesterday. He'd watched Natasha from afar, hoping, praying, for her to heal. When days become weeks, when weeks become months, and Natasha showed no sign of improvement - it hurt him more than words could ever describe. In 2019, he'd tried. Steve had tried to comfort her, and it was really because he had been relentless about it, but Natasha finally responded to him caring for her. He'd held her tightly in his arms. He'd told her that she didn't have to be alone, that he would always be by her side. Whatever it was they had to go through, they could go through it _ together_.

"You're not alone, Nat." He breathes out again, words echoing years from before. "I'm _ here._ I'm _ always _ here."

Natasha stares at him for a few seconds, tears cascading down her cheeks. She isn't even trying to hide this from him; the vulnerability she is displaying at the moment is one that Steve has familiarised himself with - it is one which threatens to rip his heartstrings apart, reminding him that _ when the Black Widow feels, she feels with her entire heart, reverberating throughout her entire soul. _

Natasha nods eventually, gripping onto his hand. "Steve?"

"Yes, Nat?"

He could see the hesitation burning in her eyes, the worry and fear etched on her face. Steve leans closer, pushing all thoughts aside to place her hand against his cheek, kissing her palm gently.

"Don't leave me." Natasha finally breathes out. "Please don't _ ever _ leave me."

At that, Steve dares himself to overstep his boundaries - he caresses her cheek gently, leaning forward to press a long, soft kiss on her forehead. 

"Never." He whispers when Natasha meets his eyes. 

With tears in her eyes, she finally smiles.

* * *

  
  


As Christine exits the ward after recording Natasha’s answers in another round of the test, Steve couldn’t help but beam just a little. He exchanges a look of gratitude with Christine when she meets his gaze, and the doctor gives him a smile of obvious relief - Natasha is able to remember the set of words told to her from hours ago, confirming the observation she’d shared together with Stephen.

Throughout the day, Steve remains rooted in her private ward. Throughout the day, he’d told Natasha all that she wanted to know about the blank years of her memory; events leading to the battle with Thanos, the battle itself. Natasha had digested everything calmly, without revealing much of what she thought in her expression - Steve notes this to be a similarity from yesterday. 

He doesn’t tell her about _ them _ \- from the way Natasha is holding onto his hand tightly, Steve realises he doesn’t have to. 

Eventually, he relocates to the couch at the back of the room as others begin to enter in pairs for a chance to speak with her. Clint jokingly tells him that he’d been hogging Natasha to himself for too long - a joke that made her chuckle just a little, relief all over her face when she sees him well and happy. Then, the second her eyes connect with those of the younger female, someone she considers to be her little sister, Natasha starts to grin while Wanda latches onto her, hugging her tightly.

When Sam comes into the room, followed by Bucky - that is when Natasha starts tearing up. The first thing that comes out of her mouth is an apology directed to the both of them, a prolonged guilt that she never got to convey. Sam chides her, Bucky tells her not to say sorry for she'd done nothing wrong. She clings onto them for her dear life, with as much strength as she could muster. 

Steve takes in all of this silently, with ache gnawing through his heart. He meets Bucky's worried gaze a few times, when Sam distracts her by launching into an exaggerated recount of how they'd participated in the battle, how they'd gone through the portals Dr. Strange had conjured for them when they returned. 

Then Sam's voice becomes smaller. "You should have been there." Though he manages to still smile. "You should have fought alongside all of us."

Natasha shakes her head once. "I don't regret what I did." Her tone sincere, peaceful.

Before the latest hour of Christine’s test, Tony and Thor replaced Sam and Bucky; Thor stands silently at the side, smiling in contentment with just watching her, while Tony takes the empty chair beside her bed. He gestures at his missing arm, giving Natasha a smile even though her expression is anything but happy. "Guess I owe you an explanation, huh?" Tony says, then patiently explains to her that it had to be done, and that he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving the world.

She finally smiles at that, in complete understanding of his decision; it is a sentiment that echoes in her heart.

“I can’t possibly let you be the only hero around here, Natasha. What with sacrificing yourself for that ridiculous stone.” Tony winks, and then gives her a smirk. His little tease manages to incite laughter from the redhead, and she shakes her head in response to his comment. “You don’t need to sacrifice anything, Tony. You’ve _ always _ been a hero.”

“So are _ you_.” Tony retorts without wasting even a second. Natasha merely beams, not saying anything. “What you did - you _ scared _ us, do you know that?”

Natasha looks across the room, finding Steve’s gaze. He gives her a smile. “So I’ve been told.”

Tony follows her line of sight, naturally smiling even before he sees what - who - she is looking at. “What you did nearly destroyed him.” Tony whispers quietly beneath his breath. “He loves you, very much.”

Natasha nods, smiling just a little. “I know.”

Steve hears the exchange, of course, and he couldn't help but smile. It warms his heart to know that Natasha _ knows. _That even if it is 2019 for her, his feelings for her isn't foreign, isn't something that had sprouted in a spur of the moment when they finally _ stopped _pushing and pulling.

"Pepper sends her regards." Tony continues, waving at his phone. "I_ would _ put her on video call, but she's putting Morgan to sleep."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Morgan?"

"_Right_," He grins. "I forgot to tell you that I'm a father now. Oh, wipe _ that _ expression from your face, Romanoff. I'm a good father to my daughter."

She chuckles, eyes crinkling into a smile. "I didn't even say anything." Natasha defends herself, right as Tony brings his phone to her eye level. When she looks at the screen, Natasha feels warmth unfurling within her stomach, her eyes locked on pictures of Morgan appearing in a slideshow. 

"She's beautiful." Natasha breathes out, completely mesmerised. "How old is she now?"

"Five, going to be six soon." Tony announces proudly. "She really...she was truly god-sent."

Natasha nods in agreement. "I can imagine how that must have felt."

"Of course you can," Tony is whispering now. "You're her _ godmother_."

The surprise that spreads across Natasha's face is evident. It takes her a few more seconds to digest what Tony had just told her. "I'm her...godmother?"

Tony nods, glancing over his shoulder to look at Steve, as if seeking his permission, gesturing for him to come to her bedside. He complies, reaching for her hand at once. "Morgan was two when you first met her. Let's just say that it is impossible not to fall in love with that little pumpkin. Pepper and I knew at once that we wanted you to be her godmother."

Silence washes over Natasha, a mixture of awe and disbelief in her expression. Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, reading her easily. “What, you don’t believe me?” retracting his phone to search for something in his gallery. He presses the screen twice before bringing it back in front of her face. Tony smiles. “See for yourself, Romanoff.”

Her heart pounds, her lower lip quivers - Natasha sees herself in the screen, dressed in casual clothing with Morgan on her lap. It’s a video, and she sees Morgan reaching up to swing her arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. She sees herself laughing, genuine happiness all over her face as she plants quick kisses on Morgan’s head. 

When the video ends, Natasha is still staring at the blank screen, one hand clutching her chest, unexpected tears welling. Steve pulls her closer into him, kissing the crown of her head. She doesn’t pull her eyes away, not until Tony puts his phone down. 

Their eyes meet, eventually, and Tony is still smiling. “She’s been asking for her _ Auntie Nat _ every single day.” He says. “Think you can handle a five year old running around in your ward and asking you to hold her?”

Natasha’s face breaks into the widest grin. “I’ve been handling her _ father _ since 2010, I think I’ll be just fine.”

Steve throws his head back to laugh, with Tony looking a little bit offended as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Well said, Natasha.” Thor quips, his laughter resonating in the four walls of her private ward.

There are polite knocks after that as Christine pokes her head in carefully. Everyone turns to look at her, but it is Steve’s eyes that she meets first. There’s something in her eyes that tell him at once that she wishes to speak to him, so Steve straightens his back and stands. 

“Hi, Natasha.” Christine greets the redhead warmly. “How are you feeling?”

Natasha knows that Dr. Palmer’s question had been that of courtesy - she’d noticed the look in her eyes the second she saw her. Still, she manages a smile. “Good.” Natasha says, because she really does feel fine, her heart still swelling with happiness from what she’d just learned from Tony. 

“I’m really glad to hear that!” Christine smiles - this, Natasha thinks, is genuine. “Do you still remember your words?”

She nods. “New York, Yellow, Cycling.”

“That’s great.” Christine almost exhales in relief, shifting her eyes to the individual beside her. “I’ll come back much later, before you sleep. Just relax, okay?”

Christine moves away, knowing that Steve had gotten her cue to leave the ward after her. He does, a few seconds after assuring Natasha that he wouldn’t be away for long. Christine heads straight for the staff station, crossing paths with Stephen and Bruce along the way. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, his tone laced with worry. “Is something wrong?”

Steve sees the silent exchange between the three, feels his heart beating against his rib-cage. Bruce answers a beat after, “We need to discuss treatment plans, Steve.” 

He wonders if it is that simple - if it is, why do they share a similar look of sadness in their eyes? “Okay, what do you suggest?”

“Before we do that, you need to know something.” Christine starts with hesitation in her voice. Steve nods, prompting her to continue. “Natasha’s condition is permanent.” 

He’d prepared himself for this moment, but hearing it out loud is different from just thinking about it. Steve winces as he shakes his head.

“But that doesn’t mean all hope is lost, Steve.” Bruce adds quickly. “There are many patients suffering from anterograde amnesia who continued living after their diagnosis. It’s not...it’s not all bad.”

Steve keeps mum, his mind blank. “Family support at this time is crucial.” Stephen says.

At that, Steve nods. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks at all three of them; Bruce, in particular. “I would _ never _ leave her.”

Steve has no intention to make things personal, but Bruce feels it, regardless. Even if it has been years ago. Bruce’s gaze wavers.

“What do I do?” Steve asks, directing his question to Christine. 

“We think it is best for Natasha to keep a journal with her. Write in it every day, before she sleeps.” Christine replies. “It would help her in knowing what had happened the day before, and it would serve as a substitution to her memories. But to do that, you need to...it’s best if...” She’s hesitates mid-sentence.

“I suggest telling her the truth.” Stephen finishes Christine’s sentence for her. Steve’s response is immediate; a look of alarm crossing his face even before he could stop himself. “She deserves to know the truth.”

Steve allows the thought to linger in his mind for a few seconds - Stephen is right. Natasha does deserve to know the truth about her condition, even if it would be painful for her to accept. 

So, he nods. “I’ll tell her.” 

* * *

**THE PAST**

_ The Sokovia Accords was not the only time Steve had a disagreement with Natasha, but it was one that hurt the most. _

_ It hurt not because Natasha had chosen to side with Tony. It hurt not because she had gone over to the other side that opposed to what he believed in. He understood why Natasha had chosen that route, and that he respected her decision. At the end of the day, Steve wasn’t going to allow a piece of document to ruin what they had with each other. _

_ It hurt because of what happened after that - when Natasha had chosen to follow her heart over her mind and allowed them to pass, when she'd prevented T'challa from stopping Bucky from leaving. It hurt that because of him, she was labelled a fugitive, wanted by the government just like him. That just one simple gesture from her could turn her from a nation's hero into everyone's enemy. For all the things she had done for his country, Natasha deserved better. _

_ It had hurt because when he found her - or when she found them, Steve wasn't too sure - Natasha had been bruised and injured. All words to express how glad he was to see her were lost in a frenzy of moment, with Steve and Sam trying to make sure she was okay. _

_ She was. Natasha was the Black Widow - of course she was okay. _

_ Natasha didn't go into the details, but it was apparent that Natasha had revisited her past, and met with certain people with goals she wanted to prevent from happening. She told him, while her injuries had been healing, that she had generally been alone all this while, going from one place to another, one of them being Budapest. The nomad life, she had joked. If he wasn't so worried over her condition, he would have laughed. _

_ And everything that happened after that, the bad luck seemed to stick with Natasha. Initially, he didn't want her to follow him and Sam in their endeavour to take down Ross - it was too dangerous, he'd tried to convince her. When she heard him say that, Natasha looked more insulted than she had ever been in her entire life. _

_ "And what I've been doing all this time wasn't dangerous?" She retorted in an annoyance that she didn't bother trying to hide. _

_ "It's different this time." He shook his head firmly. _

_ "How is it any different from all the times I've risked my life?" _

_ "Because this time, it is for _ me _ ." Steve blanched, and watched how her expression softened almost at once. _

_ She hesitated just a little, before reaching forward to cup his face gently. The second her fingertips came into contact with his cheeks, his heart began to pound. It was only then that Steve realised just how much he had missed her touch, how much he had missed _ her _ . _

_ "Steve," Natasha started. "If there is anyone I would risk my life for, it is you. I would go to the ends of the earth for you." _

_ Steve didn't even realise that he'd leaned closer into her. "If anything else happens to you, do you think I will be able to forgive myself?" He asked softly, shaking his head. "I won't, Nat. I won't." _

_ Natasha opened her mouth to say something, but at the very last second, she didn't. Instead, she took a step forward, closer into him. Eyes never leaving his, Steve didn’t even realise he was holding his breath. And her eyes - Steve remembered being breathless, lost in the meadow of green - they seemed to be telling him something. A story, perhaps. One that was assuring him that nothing would happen to her, that he should trust her because she trusted him. _

_ He could have kissed her there and then. She was so close to him, and it was like she was waiting for him to make a move. But because Steve paused, hesitated, Natasha took a step away. The moment was over within 5 seconds. _

_ If Steve had thought there was even a slight chance for Natasha to listen to him, he was definitely wrong. The Black Widow never backed down from a fight, especially not one which concerned Captain America, which concerned Steve Rogers. _

_ She stayed. And he didn't ask her to leave. _

_ But then, Natasha took a bullet for him and Steve wished he did. When he held her in his arms, his face paling at how much she'd bled, Steve wished she had listened to him. Even though she was trying to assure him that it didn’t hurt that much - the little wince on her face was telling enough as she struggled to act like she was okay. _

_ The Sokovia Accords hurt the most for him because he had come so close to losing her. He'd gotten the experience once and Steve realised he never ever wanted it to repeat again. The thought, the slight possibility of losing her _ overwhelmed _ him. _

_ And at that time, Steve wasn't even aware that he was in love with her. He didn’t know that like him, Natasha had already harboured some feelings for him that she’d locked in the deepest recesses of her heart. He didn’t know that she was afraid of how she felt for him, how much he means to her. Just as how she was to him, neither of them were ready to admit it out loud, so they continued to walk on a tightrope, treading carefully on a thin, fine line. _

_ Even then, they’d crossed the bridge together. Anything they did, they did it together - and to Steve, that was sufficient - as long as she was always by his side, as long as they had each other. _

_ Because if Steve was the ocean, Natasha was the tide. They complement each other. One would not be complete without the other - he didn’t know when they had started being like that, but Steve reckoned that their relationship had transitioned so seamlessly into that of comfort that he didn’t even realise how dependant he was of her until it was too late. _

* * *

Steve breaks the news slowly to Natasha after Tony and Thor had left. At first, she handles it in her usual demeanour, the one Steve knows to be her facade as a world renowned spy - face impassive, lips pursed, eyes void of any emotions; she doesn’t want him to know what is running through her mind as she processes his words. Once he is done explaining everything to her, Steve waits.

He waits for her to give him a reaction. Seconds pass, then minutes, the silence deafening in the air. Steve swallows the lump in his throat. “Nat...say something.”

She looks straight into his eyes. Then she asks. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.” He almost pleads, imploring her to speak, letting her know that it is _ okay _ for her to _ show _ him her feelings. “Surely there’s _ something _you want to say.”

“It won’t matter.” Natasha whispers, a hint of resolution in her voice. “I won’t remember tomorrow.”

“Natasha…” Steve feels the sobs rising in his chest. He presses them down harshly - he _ needs _ to remain composed for her, he _ needs _to. 

“Once I wake up the next day, I’ll forget everything that happened today, anyway.” She mutters with a shake of her head. “I’ll forget all the conversations with everyone. I’ll -”

Natasha pauses mid-sentence, gaze faltering. And just like that, Steve senses the change of emotions within her, the mild look of gradual hurt streaking across her face as realisation finally sinks in, cutting deeper into her wound as she tears her gaze on him away. “- I’ll forget about _ Morgan_.”

“Natasha, listen to me,” Steve begs. “We’re in this together with you. _ All _of us.”

But Natasha has gone mute, eyes on the ceiling. She refuses to look at him, but Steve continues regardless. “Christine suggested for you to write a journal, to document each day so you can read it the next day.”

She shuts her eyes, still ignoring him. He leans forward, closer. “That way, you would know what happened. You’ll know that they _ happened_.”

Natasha whispers, her voice barely audible, but Steve hears her. 

“What if I forget about you?” She finally opens her eyes. A lump latches itself onto Steve’s throat instantly. “What if I forget about _ us_?”

“Then I’ll remind you.” He assures her firmly, but with an edge of tenderness in his tone. Natasha’s eyes flicker into his direction, meeting his gaze. “I’ll remind you _ every _ single day. I’ll do it in a heartbeat, you wouldn’t even need to ask me. I’ll do it, because I _ love _you and I’ll never leave you.”

Tears start to cloud her vision, but Natasha doesn’t blink - she doesn’t want to look away, doesn’t want to break eye contact with Steve. Her heart is racing, his words ringing in her head over and over again. 

“Steve,” She utters softly. “you love me?”

“With all of my heart.” Steve affirms with a smile. He intertwines their fingers together, brings it up for her to see how perfectly their hands fit. “You and I, we’re meant to be. So don’t you worry. You’ll never forget me, Nat.”

Though touched by his words, Natasha still shakes her head, doubt filling her heart. “But what if -”

“_Even _ if you do,” He thinks of what Pepper said to him, thinks of everything they’ve been through together. He thinks - no, he _ knows _, that whatever it is that is coming next, Natasha would always - 

Steve rests their hands gently on her heart, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin, mirroring the action Natasha had done some months ago. Then he says, with promise and assurance in his tone, “- you’ll always remember me _ here_.”

* * *


	4. Chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where hope is lost once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me that's all I have to say. I promise it will get better. :')

_ Dear Natasha, _

_ It’s the year 2023. Yes, you read that right. I know you think that today is 2019, but it really isn’t. I would know, since I am you. _

_ Thanos has been defeated. Everyone did it. You - we - did it. If you want to know why you cannot seem to recall anything in your head - that is why. You see, Natasha, in 2023, Scott Lang showed up in front of the Avengers Facility. He proposed an idea of time travelling to get the infinity stones through the quantum realm. We were sent to a planet called Vormir with Clint to retrieve the Soul Stone - and we sacrificed ourselves to get the stone. _

_ We died. _

_ After everything was over, Steve got us back. The red room serum healed our other injuries, but being brought back from the dead still came with a price - we’ve lost our memories from 2019 onwards, and we would never be able to store new memories ever again. Anterograde amnesia is the condition we are suffering from. It is permanent. _

_ But don’t worry. It isn’t the end of the world. It is far from that. _ Breathe _ . Don’t be too hard on yourself. We _ will _ get through this. Everyone is here for us - especially Steve. You may not remember, but he is now someone you cherish and love in ways you cannot imagine, in more ways than you thought you already knew. I don’t need to explain much to you. Deep down, I think you already know. And even if you don't, when you see him, you will. _

_ Don’t be alarmed when you meet everyone later. Remember that it’s been years since the decimation - everyone came back, and they are all healthy and well. As a result from the battle, Tony has lost an arm. He wanted me to tell you that you're not the only self sacrificial idiot. His words, not mine. Also, Bruce looks really different now, but he is happy - that's what matters most, isn't it? _

_ And oh, Natasha? You have a goddaughter. Her name is Morgan Stark. Yes, she’s Tony and Pepper’s daughter. Yes, that manchild is now an actual father. You've met her before, she's an absolute delight. You will love her, I'm sure of it. We already do, anyway. _

_ The road ahead will not be smooth, but you will get through it. There will be gray skies at times, days where you feel like you’re thrown in a dark room and you are forced to grapple around for the light blindly. But remember in spite of that, that there will always be a ray of sun and hope lighting your way. Just like how yesterday has been a good day for me, today will be for you, too. _

_ Remember, Natasha, remember that you are loved. Remember that no matter what happens, you will be alright. _

_ From, _

_ Yesterday’s You. _

* * *

It’s been five days since everyone found out about her condition, five long days of seeing Natasha trying to accept that everyday will be a completely new day for her, with her memories wiped in a clean slate. The journal helps tremendously, and Steve realises that subconsciously, Natasha would reach out for it the second she sees it by her pillow every morning. 

She begins to do physiotherapy, taking small steps along the corridor with the aid of a walking frame, regaining control of her limbs bit by bit. Natasha tells the others that it hurts less to move now, compared to days ago - Christine, pleasantly surprised by her fast progress, deduces that it is because of the serum in her that is affecting the speed of her mobility recovery. The doctor says it in a tone that Steve interprets to be that if Natasha has no serum running in her veins, she might still have been bedridden, that it is wondrous in itself that she could even walk, when a fall from that height would have permanently crippled a normal person. He exhales in pure relief, every time he sees Natasha taking a step forward, even if her movements are slow.

“You’re doing great,” He tells her repeatedly, and Natasha simply smiles as a response. “In no time, you’ll be able to spar with me again.” Steve says that, only because he knows that Natasha wants normalcy. 

“Tell me more,” Natasha says after moments of silence. “about the years that have passed. Did it get any better?”

“It did.” Steve replies without hesitation, slowing down to match his pace with hers. “It_ did _ get better.”

She stops to look at him. “How?”

“For starters...you stopped having only peanut butter sandwiches as your only meal.” He teases, and manages to make her laugh. When her laughter fades away, it is when Steve answers her question seriously, a smile gracing his entire face as he recalls a faraway memory. “We found love.”

For a few seconds, Natasha remains quiet - Steve wonders if the implication from his sentence reached her. She takes a few more steps forward before throwing Steve a grin, her eyes glinting. “You mean like Rihanna’s song? Not bad, Rogers, I see you’ve finally gotten acquainted with the new century.”

Steve laughs, not quite expecting that response from her, even though it isn’t all that surprising given that it is in her nature to tease him. He misses this Natasha - carefree, without any hint of worry. “It’s hard not to be when my _ partner _wouldn’t stop making me listen to the billboard charts.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, lips pressed together to form a slight smile. Natasha doesn’t reply right away, but when she does, it is to ask another question. “How did that feel like?”

From the soft tone of her voice, Steve knows what her question was directed to. “It felt right.” He answers, hoping that his words would resonate within her - of that time when she told him that she would give love another try only if she found the right person. And she _ had _ \- the person, he was standing beside her all this time. Steve glances to his side, at the same time she does too. In the silence that lapses between them, they merely held their gazes for each other, no other words needed. 

Finally, Natasha gives him a smile. If Steve looks closely, he would notice that her eyes are misty. “Thought so.” She says eventually, and he ends up smiling as well. “Tell me though, who initiated it?”

Steve chuckles. “I did.”

Hearing that, Natasha reaches forward to place one hand gently against his cheek. He leans into her palm instinctively, still smiling at her. Then, she whispers, with a certain degree of conviction in her tone. “I’m really glad you did.”

  
  


* * *

**THE PAST**

_ Steve blinked in disbelief, a little taken aback at what he saw in front of him - Natasha was eating a sandwich, legs stretched out on the crappy couch in the old motel they’d taken refuge in for a day. But it wasn’t that which made his eyes wide, it was the fact that she was… _

_ “Hey,” Natasha greeted him nonchalantly. “want a sandwich?” _

_ ...blonde. _

_ “What happened to your hair?” He asked even before he could stop himself. Natasha’s hair was now a messy bob, its length uneven. She looked up from her plate, casting a stare into his direction. “You...cut it.” _

_ “I didn’t.” Natasha feigned innocence, her tone thick with sarcasm. “It grew backwards.” _

_ “And you...dyed your hair.” The frown on his face deepened - it wasn’t that Natasha didn’t look good in blonde, but he could use some time in getting used to that colour on her. It was just...different, he thought to himself, that was all. _

_ “That I did. We’re on the run and having red hair might just as well be a neon signboard asking to be arrested.” She smirked, finishing her sandwich in two more bites. The implication of her words linger in the air as Steve went to the window, peering out from behind the pathetic piece of fabric - an abomination of a curtain - cautiously. Even though he enjoyed her company, even though he’d finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, their situation was still far from ideal. Ross was still looking for them - they weren’t oblivious to what was happening. Which was why they rarely go out during the day, didn’t stay in one place for more than two days, shifting from one place to another as stealthily as they could - and now that Steve really thought about it, Natasha’s decision of changing her hairdo made perfect sense. _

_ “Is that why you told me to grow out my beard?” He mused out loud, to which Natasha chuckled. _

_ “Well, I thought it would be a decent disguise considering Captain America is always clean shaven.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Plus, you save on shaving cream. It’s a convenient option.” _

_ Steve whirled around to meet her gaze. “How clever of you.” He teased. _

_ “Why, thank you, sir.” She went along, grinning from ear to ear. _

_ Sam stepped out from his room just then, and as his eyes landed on Natasha, he did a double take in surprise. “Whoa. Your hair-” _

_ Natasha sighed in reflex. “Why are you boys acting like this is the first time you’ve ever seen someone with short and blonde hair?” _

_ Sam shrugged. "It's just different, that's all." _

_ "I hope it's a good kind of different." Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "Although I don't need any validation from you two." _

_ "You look good in anything." Steve's response was immediate. "The back is uneven though. I could help you trim, just to make it neater." _

_ Natasha looked at him, a smirk forming on her face. "Thanks, Steve." _

_ "Ugh," Sam grimaced. "Stop flirting." _

_ They laughed. _

_ Steve trimmed the ends of her hair a few hours after dinner, with Sam keeping a watchful eye by the window. The act was oddly intimate - it was his first time ever trimming a woman’s hair, and he was nervous, wondering to himself why he even offered to do it for her. But Natasha didn’t seem to mind, humming softly as she sat quietly in front of the mirror. When he finished, thirty minutes had gone by - Natasha ran her hand through her hair, shaking broken strands away. Satisfied, Natasha met his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. “Not bad, really.” _

_ Steve simply smiled. _

_ Shortly after, Sam decided to head out to stock up some supplies - they were leaving tomorrow at dawn. Steve and Natasha hung around in the living room, the television switched on but muted; Steve stared blankly at the soap opera on the screen, a romance story he didn’t give two cents about, while Natasha hovered near the window, pushing the screen up. _

_ At once, music began to fill the room - the vibrant sound echoing around the four walls. Steve glanced her way, with his eyebrow quirked. _

_ “At least someone’s having fun.” Natasha mused, eyes trained outside the window - there was a sort of party happening on the rooftop in the next building, the soft, slow music from the speakers piercing the otherwise quiet night. Steve continued to watch her, to see the wishful look in her eyes, the small smile on her lips - he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. _

_ “Hey,” He called out softly. “I’m sorry.” _

_ Natasha frowned as she looked at him. “Whatever for?” _

_ “You should be out there, enjoying yourself. Basking in the music, the atmosphere.” His jaw hardened. “Instead of being stuck here, hidden in the shadows in this crappy old place with me.” _

_ Natasha’s features softened. She started to move towards him. “You know I don’t want that. Not without knowing that you and Sam are okay.” _

_ He shook his head. She heaved a sigh. “Steve, we’ve talked about this.” _

_ “You don’t deserve this.” Steve replied, eyes not quite meeting hers. _

_ “Neither do you.” Her response came a beat after, without hesitation. Then, Natasha extended a hand towards his direction, gesturing for him to stand. He raised an eyebrow in confusion until she spoke again. "Let's dance." _

_ Steve frowned. “You know I can’t dance.” _

_ “You don’t have to know how to dance, to dance. It’s not rocket science.” She rolled her eyes a little. “Come on, Rogers. Loosen up a little.” _

_ “We’re on a run.” He pointed out with another shake of his head. _

_ “Exactly,” Natasha agreed. “we’re on a run, not stuck in a prison cell. Now, come on.” _

_ She waved her hand in his face - Steve sighed. He relented eventually, getting up to stand awkwardly in the cramped living room. Natasha pushed the couch against the wall easily, before stepping into his proximity. Gingerly, she took his hands and placed them on the side of her hips. Then, she placed her hands around his neck. _

_ “Uh, I don’t know what to do.” _

_ Natasha chuckled. “Just follow my steps.” _

_ She led him, moving from side to side slowly, to the rhythm of the music lingering in the evening night breeze. They swayed in silence as Natasha hummed to the song, she wasn’t looking at him - Steve was, though. He looked at her in the entirety of their little dance, finding heat on his cheeks when she finally glanced up to meet his eyes, a soft smile on her lips. _

_ “I never got the chance to thank you.” He said, eventually. _

_ “For what?” _

_ “That day when you let Bucky and I go. You did that knowing full well what it would cost you.” _

_ “I was never fond of the government, anyway.” Natasha shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Everything I do, I do it for the greater good. Where else am I going to find that if not in you?” _

_ Steve shook his head again. “You think too highly of me. I’m not...I’m not a saint as everyone paints me to be.” _

_ “I never said you were a saint.” She replied easily. “I’m saying that I trust you. That’s enough.” _

_ Silence lapsed between them, though they continued to move, steps in tune with each other. Steve mumbled under his breath. “Did you mean what you said the other day?” _

_ “About?” Natasha queried in curiosity, eyes gleaming. "I've said a lot of things. You need to specify." _

_ He rested a hand against her back lightly. “Following me to the ends of the earth.” _

_ “I’m still here, aren’t I?” She smirked playfully. “What does that say?” _

_ “That you’re prone to making bad decisions?” Steve joked half-heartedly. _

_ “Rogers.” Natasha warned. _

_ He chuckled, and in lieu to that came another period of silence. They stopped dancing, even though their hands were still on each other. _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Why what?” _

_ “Why trust me?” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “That’s not answering my question.” _

_ “Because _ you _ trust me.” Natasha eventually said. “You taught me what it was like to let another person in. A person I could also trust.” _

_ It warmed his heart to hear her say that - so Steve gave her another smile. They were just looking at each other now, seeing the swirls of emotions in each other's eyes, almost lost in them. Realisation dawned upon them that they were really close to each other, that when Steve pressed his palm against the small of her back, Natasha felt tingles ran down her spine. _

_ Steve saw how her eyes had flickered to his lips ever so slightly. He wasn't even aware that he had held his breath, waiting. Their faces were just inches apart, and Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut. Steve started to lean down, but the second they heard keys rattling outside, they sprang apart in reflex. _

* * *

Right when Steve thinks that everything will finally be okay, his happiness is short lived. For when Steve wakes to see the way Natasha is staring at him from her bed - he knows that something is wrong. Steve _ senses _ something is wrong the second he meets her hard gaze - an intuition he’d familiarised himself with after a decade long friendship with Natasha.

“Nat?” Steve calls out slowly, testing the waters. He sees the immediate frown forming on her face, the level of wariness in her eyes spoke volumes even before she said anything. His heart pounds as he waits for an answer, and Steve hopes - he hopes for a sign from her showing that it would be okay for him to go to her.

But no amount of hope would have prepared him for what would happen next. _Because_ _hope_, as how Steve has thought of before,_ is fickle, dangerous and fragile_. 

Steve learns it the hard way that as easy as it is to hope, it is extremely easy to be thrown into a situation where all hope is lost - he’d experienced it many times before, and in all those experiences, they had brought him nothing but pain. But see, that is where the irony comes in - despite all that, if there is another opportunity that comes for him to even dare to hope again, Steve would take it. He would take it in a heartbeat. 

The opportunity, after his failure to prevent the decimation, had come in the form of a person; _ Natasha. _ ‘Come’ wouldn’t even be the right word Steve would use, because the reality is that she has _ never _ left. In the least expected circumstances, Steve began to hope again. He began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. But it becomes an endless cycle, one that Steve feels is a constant mockery of his feelings. Because right when he believes all would be well, right when he thinks that he’d gone past that stage of utter misery, he would once again be plunged into the deepest depths of darkness.

Everything that happens next went by in a frenzy of moment - Steve doesn’t even realise that Natasha had lunged towards him from her bed, aiming straight for his neck, until his hands curl around her wrists by utter reflex and instinct. “Nat-” Eyes wide, Steve lets out a gasp when Natasha knees his midriff with an unexpected force that sends him stumbling backwards.

Even though he has one hand against his torso, Steve recovers from the shock in seconds - when he looks back at Natasha, he is horrified to find that she had stumbled onto the ground, her hands clutching her head as she lets out a strangled scream of agony. Disregarding the fact that Natasha had just attacked him, Steve rushes to press the call button, before dropping to his knee beside her with an arm outstretched. “Are you oka-”

Their eyes connect, and Steve feels an immediate chill running down his spine. The way she is looking at him, the cold, aggressive gaze evident in her eyes - Steve knows at once that this is _ not _ the Natasha he _ knows _. And right at the second he thinks that, she grabs his wrist in one swift motion, twisting it with all her might before tackling Steve down onto his front. Steve bites the pain down with a grit of his teeth, his eyes frantically searching in hers for any sign of familiarity, any sign which can tell him what is happening, why is Natasha acting like this - 

She snarls, and Steve feels his blood run cold.

“Did_ she _ send you?” Natasha presses her other hand into the nape of his neck. “_Where _ is this place?”

“Nat, please,” He tries again, as calmly as he could without moving a muscle - if Steve wants to, he could break the hold she has on him. All the sparring sessions he’d done with Natasha had taught him her exact strength and limits, what could potentially hurt him - and at this moment, she isn’t exerting that level of force on him yet. His intuition tells him that this hesitation from Natasha isn’t because there’s a sense of familiarity in her, but that she couldn’t, not when Natasha is still recovering from her surgery. “It’s Steve, you _ know _ me.”

Steve feels a sharp jolt of pain from the hand Natasha had twisted to his back, letting out a gasp. Even then, he remains still, unmoving - the last thing Steve would want to do is to hurt her or frighten her even more, especially not when she’s already in such a vulnerable situation. 

Natasha exhales, her tone harsh. “I know _ no _such person.”

The second he hears that, Steve feels as though someone had dragged a knife across his heart, the pain searing through every fibre of his being. Before he could respond to that, the door slides open and a loud gasp ensues. 

"Call Dr. Banner!" Steve says loudly, seizing the opportunity to break the hold Natasha has on him, pushing himself off the floor. She jumps away, attempting to make a dash for the door - but Steve stops her movement by throwing his arms around her waist. "_Natasha, stop!” _

In that sudden moment of hearing Steve say those two words, Natasha stills, her eyes widening. She doesn’t know why, or how, but her body reacts to his voice purely by instinct - even though her mind is telling her to react differently, even though she is overwhelmed with two conflicting feelings building within her. Natasha’s heart thunders against her ribcage, her breathing shallow. She winces, her head throbbing anxiously as she tries to make out her feelings.

Realisation hits her then - someone is _ holding _her. With every last remaining strength left in her, Natasha wrenches herself away from his grasp, turning around to meet his gaze, her eyes wild with utter confusion. But before Steve could say anything, she takes an unstable step backwards and collapses, knees meeting the carpeted floor as a whimper escapes her even before she could stop herself.

"Natasha," He mirrors his action earlier, already on his knees beside her. But this time, she doesn't push him away, not even when he cups her face in his hands. "_Nat, look at me." _

She complies, and in a flicker of a moment, Steve sees _ her _. He sees the warmth in Natasha's eyes, the tenderness in her gaze - but it comes and goes in mere seconds, even before he could fully register it in his mind. She slaps his hands away, then scrambles to the side of her bed. 

Steve feels his heart lurching into his throat. He remains in his position, eyes never leaving Natasha as he observes her quietly. _ Something is wrong with her, _ Steve bit his lower lip in worry, _ she’s - _

Scared. 

His eyes widen in realisation. Her withdrawn figure, how she’s _ trembling _ \- Natasha is _ scared _. 

_ Of what? _

Steve doesn’t know what to say, his mouth completely dry. He has almost never seen her like this, her demeanour small and timid, a complete contrast of what the Black Widow is. He couldn’t find his voice, not even when Natasha speaks again two seconds later, her voice a hushed whisper. “This is a hospital, isn’t it?”

It takes him a while to say something, but eventually, Steve nods. “We’re in New York Hospital.”

Her forehead creases in confusion. “New York?” 

“Yes,” He replies patiently, worriedly - this isn’t how he would have imagined a new day to be for her, not one where she looks utterly _ terrified, _ her expression rivals even the one he’d seen on her seconds after the decimation. “Natasha, you're -” 

"_Why _ do you keep calling me that?” She asks sharply, still not looking at him, part of her face buried into the blanket hanging at the side of her bed. 

Steve is rendered mute, completely crippled by her question - his heart is pounding loudly and hard against his chest, blood rushing into his head. He slumps against her side table, jaw slacked in panic and dismay. Natasha repeats her question, and the words almost fly past his head.

_ “Why do you keep calling me Natasha?” _

* * *

It feels like deja vu all over again. 

Steve paces anxiously around the waiting lounge as he waits for Bruce to return from wherever the hell he had disappeared to with Stephen and Christine. Bucky waits at the side quietly, while Sam is talking on the phone - presumably with Clint - informing him about the sudden turn in Natasha’s condition.

He whirls around when the door slides open - Wanda steps into the lounge just then, her face crestfallen, not daring to look at any of them. She keeps her eyes on the floor, as she tries to collect her thoughts. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, noticing the shock on the younger woman’s face. Wanda shakes her head repeatedly, as if trying to tell herself that it’s _ nothing. _ “Wanda?”

She glances up then, her eyes teary as they meet Steve’s. “I read her mind.” 

Steve struggles to swallow the lump latched onto his throat, fearing to hear what would come out from Wanda’s mouth next. She nibbles her lower lip in that pause, darting looks in between all three men in the lounge. “I don’t understand her thoughts.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks right at the same time Sam pockets his phone, a frown on his face. 

Before Wanda could reply, the door slides open again - Steve nearly lets out a sigh when he sees Christine walking through the door with Stephen and Bruce tailing her. The expressions on all three of them spoke more than words could ever, and Steve feels his heart sink in dejection. Seconds went by in silence, neither of them saying anything. Not until Stephen takes a tentative step towards Steve. 

“Given the circumstances, we believe we owe you an explanation regarding Natasha’s current condition.” He says softly, to which Steve simply nods, finding no energy to speak. Stephen looks around the room, exchanging glances with Sam, Bucky and Wanda. “Oftentimes, anterograde amnesia co-exists with retrograde amnesia, which is a condition when you forget your past memories.”

Steve nods - those four years that Natasha lost, that’s retrograde amnesia, isn’t it? This time, Bruce is the one who continues. “With Natasha, we had assumed that those four years before Vormir constituted that condition. Based on her scans, we didn’t think that it could be any worse -”

“_Worse _?” Sam interjects, his tone laced with frustration and heartbreak. 

Bruce loses his voice, his hands balled into fists as he looks away. Stephen and Christine exchanges one knowing look, and the latter takes a few steps forward towards the three men. “Based on what happened to Steve this morning, recent progress and what not,” She starts, her voice morose, “we have reasons to believe that Natasha had lost more years than just four.” 

The revelation stuns all of them, rendering them completely speechless. Steve stares with his eyes as wide as saucers, clasping his hands together tightly to prevent them from shaking in both anger and disbelief. 

“And because Natasha isn’t talking to us, we cannot determine the exact years she’d lost.” Stephen breaks the silence just then. “We were wondering if any one of you could try talking to her.”

Wanda is the first to reply the sorcerer. “That wouldn’t be necessary.” She says quietly, still in slight hesitation as all eyes land on her. “I went to her ward earlier. Though she didn’t acknowledge my presence, I...I read her mind.”

Everyone is holding their breaths now, waiting for Wanda to complete her sentence, to elaborate. She finally says it, just one word that nearly sends everyone into a state of shock. 

_ “Russia.” _

The effect of the word is immediate - Steve feels his heart clench in pain, his head spinning as he slumps into the nearest seat he could find. He closes his eyes and at once, sees the look Natasha had given him earlier. When he tries to shake the image of her fearful gaze, one that he had almost never seen on her, Steve starts to hear the words she had uttered to him earlier - _ why do you keep calling me Natasha? - _and suddenly, everything clicks in his mind. 

“Natasha was thinking about the KGB.” It pains her to elaborate further, but Wanda knows that it is an indispensable piece of information that everyone should know about, no matter how painful the implication would be. “She kept...she kept thinking that if they knew she was here in America...they would...they would never forgive her.” 

“But the KGB,” Bucky shudders, shaking his head firmly, as if denying Wanda’s words. “That was such a_ long _ time ago.”

“Do you know approximately how long that was?” Christine’s hands tighten around her clipboard, but no one answers her, not immediate, anyway. 

Sam gasps just then, the full implication of Wanda’s words finally sinking in - “No.” He shakes his head in disbelief. He may not know the entire details, but being on a run with Natasha for almost three years had taught him many things he didn’t know about her before. One of those being during her time before she defected to America. She had told him that it was a past she would never be able to let go, a past that had haunted her even till this day, a past that was nearly - “_No way _.”

“Twenty years.” The words fall from his lips in a hushed whisper, tears welling in his eyelids as a wave of anguish guts him straight in his heart. Steve doesn’t even have the will to look at the others, to gauge their reaction to his reply. Two words that meant nothing before this now weigh heavily on his tongue, the bitter aftertaste lingering in his mouth. 

“_Twenty _years.” He says it again, hoping that all of this is just another nightmare, that when he wakes, everything would be okay. 

It isn’t a nightmare - it’s reality. 

* * *

Natasha speaks to no one. It is as though she is torturing herself, refusing to eat, to react, to speak. She isn’t receptive or responsive to anyone who tries to engage in a conversation with her - most of the time, she would stare at the ceiling blankly, without moving even a muscle, as if lost in her own world. When Christine or the nurses enter to check up on her, Natasha would regard them with an apprehension that made even Steve shiver in devastation. And this _ repeats _ every single day.

This_ isn’t _ Natasha. This isn’t the Natasha he knows, the one he is _ in love _ with.

And it absolutely breaks Steve’s heart to see her like this - of complete and utter loss of faith, her soul battered and broken beyond repair. After knowing that the only memories left in her are ones she’d fought so hard to forget, memories from a past she absolutely fears and detests, for the first time, Steve does not have an answer to solving this situation. He has _no_ idea what to do.

“Her health is deteriorating.” Christine tells all of them one day, her face laced with sadness. “If she continues to refuse food and treatment, if she stops doing physiotherapy -”

“She hates hospitals and doctors.” Clint interrupts, his eyes swollen and red - as if to answer Christine's statement. “Because of what the Red Room did to her.”

The implication of his sentence hangs in the air, lingering, setting into each of their minds - Steve clenches his jaw, his hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white. Of course he knows what Clint had implied - the torture she’d gone through as a child in the Red Room, of what they did to her body, her mind, countless experiments injected into her veins by force and coercion.

“But we _ need _to do something.” Bruce sighs in frustration. “She isn’t listening to us, and if this continues, she’ll -”

“What if…” Tony interjects, raising his head to look at Bruce from across the room. “What if we do something to her mind?”

Bruce furrows his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about…” Tony hesitates just a little, a distant memory flitting into his mind. His eyes land on one particular quiet individual in the lounge. “..._Wanda_.”

As her name slips out of Tony’s mouth, Wanda’s eyes widen just as everyone turned to look at her, their expressions mirroring hers. It strikes all of them at once, what her name implies - she is able to manipulate minds, even memories. The younger female shakes her head twice, fear etched across her face. “I-I can’t possibly…there’s too much at risk.”

“Wanda’s right.” Bruce’s forehead creases, his tone firm. “Manipulation of the human mind is not a good idea. It’s _ never _a good idea.”

Rhodey speaks. “But if Wanda does it right, it’ll just be an alteration of her memory so that her past will not hurt her any further than it already has.” He turns to regard everyone else. “I think it’s a good idea.” 

“_No_,” Bucky suddenly speaks up from the side, a flash of pain evident in his eyes. “You don’t know how it’s like to be manipulated. Tampering with Natasha’s mind would only hurt her even _ more _.” 

“But what if it _ helps _ her?” Clint asks, latching onto the newfound hope.

Bucky shakes his head firmly. “To not be in control of what you do, what you think - _ I _ know how that feels, it will not be -” 

“No offence, Barnes,” Clint interjects, “but our situation now is different than yours. You were _ brainwashed _. Tony is suggesting -”

“What difference does it make?” Bucky retorts evenly. “It is_ still _ mental manipulation. What’s projected in her head will not be real. Is that what you want for her? To be living in more lies?”

“Well, she isn’t living in a sugar coated world now either.” Sam puts in his opinion quietly, though everyone hears it loud and clear. 

This time, Thor is the one who speaks. “I’m afraid you do not know the potential repercussions that Barnes is speaking of. Manipulating her mind will _ hurt _her.”

“Her current memories are _ already _hurting her.” Sam replies. “If there’s a chance Wanda could change that, alter her memories a little...wouldn’t that be better?”

The argument does not stop - Bruce, Thor and Bucky remain steadfast in opposing to Tony’s idea, while Sam, Clint and Rhodey are open to reason with the others why they are supportive of that. Steve watches the debacle unfolding in front of him, feels the lump latching onto his throat, the headache striking his head. 

A sound escapes from Wanda’s throat, and when everyone looks at her, she shakes her head. “But I _ don’t _do that anymore.”

“But you _can_, if you _want _to.” Clint pleads. “Think about it, Wanda. If you could do it, you’d ease her mind. Instead of thinking of herself as though she’s some sort of monster that shouldn’t even exist, shouldn’t even be here. You could...you could show her visions of her time as an Avenger.”

Wanda shrinks back just as Bruce clasped his hands together in a manner of plea. “You can’t possibly expect Wanda to plant visions into her head _ everyday _ . That is _ wrong _.”

“Why can’t you see it?” Tony says exasperatedly, taking a few steps forward. “By refusing to speak to anyone, refusing to eat her medication...Natasha is _ self-destructing _ . She thinks this is the only way for an _ out _ . We can’t even try to convince her otherwise because she doesn’t trust _ anyone. _”

“We know there’s nothing we can do to cure the damage in her brain, but if Wanda is able to manipulate her mind just a little, wouldn’t that be good enough?” Rhodey adds. “We can’t heal her completely but at least, at the _ very _ least, Natasha doesn’t have to wake up every day thinking that she lives to only be a weapon for the KGB.”

But Bucky is still shaking his head fervently. “You’re feeding lies with more lies.”

“This isn’t about _ you _ .” Clint reminds, albeit a little harshly. Bucky grimaces. “We’re not turning Natasha into someone she isn’t, we’re trying to turn her back into who she _ is _.”

“That’s the _ point_,” Bruce almost yells, “By manipulating her mind, it will not make her into the Natasha we know!”

“Bruce,” Sam takes a step towards his direction. There’s hesitation in him, sadness laced in his eyes. “Can you honestly say that the Natasha lying inside at this moment, is the Natasha we know of, that we all love?”

Bruce couldn’t, of course, so he sinks into the couch, cradling his head in his hands as he lapses into silence. Nobody else says anything until -

“Steve?” Tony calls, and realisation dawns upon everyone that Steve has not spoken one word about this entire suggestion. “What do you think?” He meets Tony’s pleading gaze, then shifts from one person to another, his heart torn into two. 

More than anyone in this room, Steve wants to ease Natasha’s suffering. To not have her wake up to a new day thinking the worst of herself. “I would drop everything,” He begins, finally finding his voice, his tone wishful and faraway. “If it means easing Natasha’s pain…” But then he sees Wanda - and his throat constricts even further at the expression she is displaying, one he has seen as early as after the events of Sokovia, until they reunited in Scotland. Her eyes are telling of the conflict within her, the fear and insecurity in layers that do not go away the more she stares at Steve. 

He knows that ever since Wanda joined their side, she had stopped using her powers to manipulate the minds of people - the incident with Ultron was the last she’d used her power to hypnotise someone; planting illusions and creating false visions in their minds. What Clint said did strike a chord in his heart though - if Wanda could show Natasha days of when she was an Avenger, based off memories through the eyes of everyone else in the room...

“I can’t control what the visions would turn out to be. Illusions aren’t real.” Wanda meets Steve’s eyes finally, reading his mind. She gives him a sad smile. “What if I make things worse?”

“What about altering her memory?” Rhodey asks softly. “So that she doesn’t think of the KGB, or the Red Room.”

Wanda looks at him when she answers, her voice measured and small. “I’ve never done that before. I can’t promise...I can’t promise it would help. I don’t want to aggravate anything.”

And then it strikes Steve - a simple answer, one that would still require Wanda’s help, though nothing as risky as the manipulation of Natasha’s mind. _ Why didn’t he think of this earlier? _ In a split second, Wanda’s eyes are back on his, her eyebrows furrowed together - she’d read his mind, she knows what he is thinking.

“Emotions.” He breathes out. “You could do that, can you?”

“I…” Wanda frowns, not entirely opposing to that idea. She understands Steve’s suggestion at once - rather than manipulating Natasha’s mind, she could manipulate her _ emotions _ instead. Emotions, they come from the _ heart_. If there’s anything that would bring Natasha back, it has to be through her _ heart_. 

Wanda’s mind is already on overdrive, thinking of ways to execute this plan without risking anything. All she needs to do is to calm Natasha down, so that she is receptive to others, so that she could open up to others. If she manages to do this, at the very least, their words could soothe her - _Steve’s _words could_ reach_ her. 

“I could try.” She finally says.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact Time (Even though I know yall are probably cursing the heck out of me right now) :
> 
> Based on this one article that I read about anterograde amnesia + retrograde amnesia co-existing at the same time, a particular sentence stood out to me: _"AA may need to reach some threshold of severity before RA is observed."_ and well somehow my brain just created this situation for this fic where Natasha's condition, as unpredictable as it can get, worsened (even though it was supposed to have gotten better) and triggered an even extensive RA period. Of course, disclaimer, disclaimer!! This is not medically proven, because in most of the other articles I read, the patients (like H.M & Clive Wearing - you can google about them if you want to know more) suffered from both AA and RA at the same time, and not as what happened to Nat in this chapter. 
> 
> But anyway, I digress. I swear, it will get better and this fic will still have a relatively happy ending given the circumstances :) Don't give up on me yet, readers! Till the next chapter - which will probably be a week or so later.


	5. Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Steve decides to tell Natasha his (their) story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this fic as fast and as much as I can because I'm trying not to write anything this angsty in December (which I'll then focus on my Christmas fluff AU instead). ^^;

Before Wanda attempts to manipulate Natasha’s emotions, she decides that she would first try to speak to her, to see if there is any chance of getting through to her without having to use her powers. When Wanda enters her ward the following morning, with Steve following closely behind, she tries her best not to read Natasha’s thoughts just yet. She would soon come to realise, as she edges closer towards her bed, that it wouldn’t have mattered, because Natasha’s mind is blank, utterly void of any thoughts. 

Wanda’s heart aches seeing Natasha like this, once vibrant and full of life, the only sister figure she has, the one person who had taught her so much and welcomed her with open arms into the Avengers - _ where has she gone to? _

“Good morning.” Steve tries to sound as laid back as he could, even though he knows that the chances he would get a response is zero. He pulls the curtain to the side slightly, allowing the stream of morning sunlight into the ward. “Beautiful weather, isn’t it?”

As they had both expected, Natasha doesn’t reply, nor does she spare even a glance into Steve’s direction. He exchanges a look with Wanda, who had settled herself on the empty chair beside Natasha. Wordlessly, he gives her a nod, a sign for her to proceed. 

“Hi,” The younger woman whispers gently. “I’m Wanda. You may not remember who I am, but we are friends.”

At that, Natasha turns to look to the other side instead. Wanda sucks in her breath and continues, gathering words on her tongue carefully. “It’s painful, isn’t it? The things going through your mind.”

Silence. Steve keeps his eyes on the view outside, pretends that this conversation isn’t hurting him. He pretends not to react in fear that it would only push her further away, just as how it already did in the past few days. In all the years of him knowing Natasha, she had hardly ever told him about her past as an agent for the KGB. She didn’t have to - he had guessed enough from bits and pieces in her file and their passing conversations to conclude that Natasha is in an infinitely better place as an Avenger, even though the memories of her past continues to constantly haunt her. Steve grits his teeth, remembering when Natasha had told him in one of their past missions together, that she was made into a weapon for the KGB, that the missions they’d instructed her to do were downright unfathomable. 

He looks at her from his peripheral, a surge of sadness coursing through his veins - she doesn’t deserve this. Natasha doesn’t deserve to be thrown back into a past she’d fought so hard to overcome.

It seems Wanda had heard his thoughts, for she speaks again; “I’ve been through that situation before. Where I was experimented over and over again, used as a weapon, over and over again.” She pauses. “I understand how you are feeling.”

One second passes, then two, three. 

_ “You don’t.” _

Steve freezes when he hears her voice again, barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. It’s the first sentence she’d spoken in a few days, and his heart begins to pound; would she say something else?

Wanda doesn’t reply right away, and Steve guesses that she is probably reading Natasha’s mind quietly, to gauge for the right things to say. Their entire conversation this morning is threading on a careful line - one misstep is all it takes to fall. 

“My brother and I were recruited by HYDRA when we were teenagers. Do you know what they are? A terrorist organisation.”

Natasha turns her head, finally meeting eyes with Wanda. Steve steals a glance from where he stood, noticing the subtle change in her gaze. “I set fire to a village once.” Wanda confesses, her lower lip quivering at the distant memory. “It has haunted me ever since. No matter how much I tried to forget, I will always remember the faces of the villagers. They called me a Witch.”

Wanda holds Natasha’s gaze. “You understand what I’ve gone through, don’t you?”

No other words are needed. Even Steve understands. For a few seconds, Natasha doesn’t react to her question. But slowly, she begins to nod, closing her eyes as pain streaks across her face. Steve holds his breath. Wanda continues. “But that was many years ago. It is my past as much as your memories are to you - they’re your _ past _. We’re different people now, Natasha. We’re...we’re on the correct path now.” 

She shakes her head in disbelief just as Steve feels his heart sinking.

“Do you know why we are calling you Natasha, and not Natalia?” Wanda is whispering again, her tone of comfort and sincerity. “Because you _ left _that life behind ever since you defected to America twenty years ago.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in horror, as though what Wanda had just told her was something completely unfathomable. Wanda takes the opportunity to cover her hand over Natasha’s, squeezing it gently. Steve holds his breath, waiting for her to pull her hand away, but she doesn’t. 

Wanda leans forward. “I’m not lying, Natasha. You _ did _that. Clint Barton, he is your best friend, he was sent by SHIELD to take you out, but he saw the good in you and convinced you to leave the KGB.”

“Impossible.” Natasha whispers, finally breaking eye contact with the younger female. For a brief second, her eyes meet Steve’s instead. Then she looks away - a clear sign showing that she has shut herself away, refusing to listen to them further. Knowing that their last attempt to get through to her had failed, Wanda looks over her shoulder, waiting for Steve to give her the greenlight to proceed. He does, similarly, with a slight nod.

“Then let me help you see the truth.” Wanda finally says. “To make you understand.”

Natasha turns her back against Wanda, her voice dejected and tired. “You can’t.”

Steve takes a few quiet steps towards Wanda, putting one hand on her shoulder. They exchange a glance - _ do it, _ Steve speaks to her mentally, _ please ease her pain. _

Wanda nods.

* * *

  
  


It works to a certain extent. 

When the nurse brings a tray of lunch for her hours later, Natasha starts to eat. Although she remains quiet throughout the afternoon, she no longer regards Christine as an enemy - she becomes indifferent to the doctor when she enters to do her checkups, even allowing her to touch her. When Christine asks her a few general questions, she responses with a nod, or a shake of her head.

Christine passes a look between Wanda and Steve - it is one of gratitude and relief. She tells them that she would update Stephen and Bruce, and leaves shortly after. As Natasha buries herself beneath the blanket, Steve leaves Wanda behind to meet the rest of the Avengers. 

“How is she?” Clint stands the second Steve enters the waiting lounge. “Did it work?”

“Better.” Steve replies, smiling weakly. “She started eating, and was responsive to Dr. Palmer.”

Sam expels a sigh of relief at the same time Clint does too. Even though they had initially opposed to the idea, Bucky and Thor manage a small smile as well - it is a positive news, after all. 

“I’ll let Rhodey and Tony know.” Sam announces, taking his phone out to text the other individuals. “Fury, too.” 

“I want to see her, if that’s alright with you.” Clint says after that, his tone indicating a statement instead of a question. Steve nods; Clint has every right to want to see his best friend, there was no need to ask for his permission. “Clint,” He starts. “You might want to tell her about the story of how she defected from the KGB. If it comes from you, perhaps it could stir something within her.”

“I’ll try my best.” Clint claps his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Cap.”

“I hope so.” is all Steve says as he watches him leave. When he looks up, he sees Bucky and Sam staring at him, their faces evident of what they want to ask him. “I’m alright.” He tells them even before they could say anything. “Don’t worry about me.”

“If you say so.” Sam offers him a smile, the hidden message behind his sentence clear - _ we trust you, but if you need anything, let us know. _

“Go home and rest.” Steve says afterwards, regarding both of his best friends carefully. They had stayed in the hospital ever since Natasha’s condition took a turn for the worst, only going back to shower and change their clothes. Steve is appreciative of their gesture, knowing that they’d done that to keep him company and to be on standby in case anything happens. 

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, frowning slightly. 

Steve nods, giving him a smile. “Positive.”

“We’ll come again tomorrow.” Sam states, while reading a text from his phone. “Rhodey says he would drop by later with Tony.”

“I’ll get in touch with them.” Steve merely says, then adds. “Now go, don’t worry. We have it covered here.”

After they’d left, Clint returns to the waiting lounge half an hour later, his expression impassive. Still, he manages a small smile when he catches Steve’s eyes. “She didn’t say much to me. But she listened to my entire story.” He breathes out a loud sigh. “That should account for something, right?”

“Definitely.” Steve agrees, knowing that without Wanda’s powers, Natasha wouldn’t have even paid any attention to the guests in her room, let alone hear them speak to her. He hopes that at the very least, some parts of what Clint had told her did get through to her - it_ has _ to, because if it didn’t, Steve wouldn’t know what to do.

Clint takes his leave shortly after, and Steve returns to Natasha’s ward. When he enters, he catches Wanda in the midst of telling her what they’d done together since the first day the younger female had joined the Avengers. Steve hears the gratitude and admiration in Wanda’s tone, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

They’ve all come a long way since then. 

“You were a great teacher,” Wanda gushes, keeping her tone as natural sounding as possible - it’s easy, considering that she is genuine in her praises. “even though I was a terrible student, you never gave up on me. You and Steve both, as leaders of the Avengers,” Wanda glances at the man standing near the door. “had so much faith in me.”

Steve almost stops breathing when he meets Natasha’s gaze. She’s looking at him in a way that is foreign, yet familiar - he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but Steve sees how her expression softens ever so slightly. 

“You’re Steve?” Natasha asks just then. Wanda almost leaps up from her chair to usher him forward, but stops herself at the very last second. Heart hopeful, Steve begins to walk towards her bedside, nodding his head once, eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah, I’m...I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

She nods once, and that’s about it - there is no recognition in her expression, nothing to indicate that she remembers who he is. Steve’s face falls, clear disappointment flashing through his eyes.

“Steve is your-” Wanda bits back her tongue, casting a careful gaze towards Steve. The latter shakes his head slightly. _ Don’t, _ he says mentally, knowing that she would hear him. _ She’s not ready yet. _

Wanda swallows the lump lodged in her throat, directing her attention back to Natasha, who is looking at her with mild curiosity. “-partner.” She finishes lamely, softly. 

“Like Clint?” Natasha asks. Wanda doesn’t respond, instead, Steve answers for her. “Yes.” He ignores the voice screaming in his head. “Like Clint.”

“He was here earlier.” The redhead continues calmly. “He told me what I did, how I entered SHIELD.”

“Do you believe him?” Steve couldn’t help but ask, keeping his fingers crossed. 

Natasha glances at him again. Her answer doesn’t come immediately, judging from the slight frown on her face, she is contemplating, thinking harder than necessary. It is all the answer Steve needs to know; she doesn’t.

“Why not?” He continues, almost desperately.

“Because,” Natasha is shaking her head. “It is too good to be true.”

Wanda’s shoulders slump in obvious dejection. “But you are a recognised hero, Natasha.”

“I don’t deserve recognition.” Natasha says, her tone so firm that it sends another cut straight in Steve’s heart. “I don’t deserve anything.”

He shakes his head quickly. “_If _ anything, the _ world _ doesn’t deserve you.” Steve mutters. “For everything you’ve done, compared to what you’ve gotten in return. You deserve _ more _ than what we gave you, Natasha.”

She doesn’t react to that statement, even though Steve knows that she’d taken in his words, digesting them in her mind, trying to gauge if they’re the truth, or if they’re lies. He takes this opportunity to continue speaking. “What Wanda said earlier is true. You’re a recognised hero, awfully brave, tremendously courageous. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“You’re _ wrong_. I’ve done _ many _ horrible things. If you really know me like how you claim to, you would know that.” She hisses aggressively. “So, I _ can’t _be all that.”

“Yes, you’ve done horrible things for the KGB.” Steve matches his tone with hers, frustration evident on his face. “But you _ didn’t _ let your past define who you are. The courage to leave all of that behind, to risk everything. This path you’ve carved out yourself, the things you’ve done for the greater good. For Christ’s sake, you _ died _to bring back half the population on earth.” 

Steve sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he watches how her eyes had widened slightly at that revelation. “Yes, Natasha. You heard me right. The reason why you’re here, the reason why you’re missing 20 years of your memories - it is because you _ sacrificed _ yourself to restore half the universe. What does that say about you? Whether you admit it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you are a _ hero _, Natasha.”

She doesn’t - couldn’t - say anything in response, even though her gaze is still trained on Steve, even though her expression doesn’t show more than her being taken aback. He wishes she would say something, if she could just accept the truth they’re trying to tell her.

“Please believe me, Nat,” He pleads. “believe me when I say that you’re all those things I’ve mentioned. And so, so much more.”

Silence stretches over them for the longest of time, before Natasha lets out a long and tired sigh. Wanda winces one second after that, having read her thoughts before the words even leave her mouth, her heart breaking.

“How can I believe you when I don’t even know you?”

  
  


* * *

**THE PAST**

_ Ever since their failure to stop Thanos, Steve knew for certain that he would never be the same. He knew, that no matter how much he tried to act like everything was going to be okay, it wouldn't change the fact that they'd - he - had lost. And the consequence for that failure had been jarring, heavy, costing half of the entire population in the universe. _

_ Vision’s death had been in vain. T’Challa, Wanda, Fury, Sam, Bucky, people close to him, dear to his heart, were gone. Everyone, _ everyone _ except Natasha. His pillar of support, after all that has happened, was still here. They’d clung onto each other tightly, as though letting go would mean that the other would disappear too. It felt almost like a dream; that fact made it easier for Steve to cope. It made it easier that when he looked up from where he stood, he could still see her. That if he reached a hand out, he could still touch her. _

_ But like him, Natasha was no longer the same. She'd turned quiet, into a reserve, barely acknowledging his presence. Withdrawn. Broken. Her eyes tired, hollow. She barely ate. She barely moved. When Steve walked down the corridor where her room was, he would hear the sound of her crying, no matter how muffled they are, how much she tried to stifle her sobs and weeping, Steve would still hear her. He would hover for the longest time outside her room, his heart breaking at every second that passed, pondering if he should knock. Steve thought to himself - how could he fix a broken person when he too was no longer whole? _

_ He couldn’t, so he walked away. _

_ Steve had assumed that they could heal from the pain suffered from a permanent reality they couldn’t alter. But as the days went by, Steve had realised that it was mere wishful thinking. He came to that realisation when Natasha slowly drifted apart from him; she could be in the same room as him, yet Steve could no longer reach her. _

_ Months went by until Steve decided he should do something about Natasha; he was worried sick for her. Knowing that Natasha hadn’t left her room in days, he chose to linger outside her room, hoping to catch her. After waiting for the entire evening, he didn’t, so Steve was left with no choice but to knock, lightly at first, with a gradual increase of force when he heard nothing from inside. _

_ “Natasha?” He called out anxiously. “Natasha, are you in there?” _

_ Soft footsteps were heard - barely there, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he picked up the way she trudged across her room, her movements slow and filled with utter reluctance. When Natasha unlocked her door, Steve saw her swollen eyes first. She regarded him with a look of lethargy, a look which asked him what he was doing here in front of her room. _

_ Steve pleaded with his eyes, hoping that it would reach her, hoping they would convey a message to her telling her to let him into her heart again. “Nat, what’s wrong?” _

_ She shrugged, an automatic response Steve had gotten used to. “Nothing.” _

_ “Natasha,” He placed a hand against the door, preventing her from slamming it into his face. “look at me.” When she did, he continued. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” _

_ She inhaled sharply. "I just need to be alone." _

_ "Nat, please," Steve took a step into her room, placing his hands on her shoulders. "you don't have to act strong in front of me." _

_ She finally glanced at him, wide-eyed. Natasha didn't know how to respond to him, but his words struck a chord in her; it was like a switch in her had been flipped on, because Steve saw the way her lower lip had quivered, the tremble in her eyes as she fought to repress the tears from coming. _

_ "When was the last time you smiled?” Steve asked, his voice soft. _

_ There was a long pause, until Natasha shook her head. She answered in a whisper; “I don’t remember.” _

_ The ache in his heart returned, as he watched how she started tearing up - the amount of pain in her, the thought of how she’d forgotten how it was like to be happy - Steve took a tentative step forward to embrace her. He did it carefully, holding her against his chest lightly. It wasn’t until Natasha wrapped her arms around his waist that Steve pulled her into a crushing hug. _

_ “I want you to listen to me,” He whispered against the crown of her head. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.” _

_ She sobbed into his shirt, staining it with her tears. "How do I live? Tell me, Steve. Because I don't know how to live anymore." _

_ "Natasha…" _

_ "I don't have anything to live for anymore. I don't...I don't deserve to be alive." _

_ Her words hurt him in ways he couldn’t explain. Steve pleaded. "Don't say that." _

_ "It's the truth, Steve. Everything hurts, and I’ve lost everyone -" _

_ "Please don't say that," He repeated, breaking their hug so he could look at her instead. "It hurts _ me _ when you say that. You haven’t lost everyone...you still have me. Can't you live for me?" _

_ Something flashed across her eyes in that instance - Steve saw it. He saw how her expression changed from that of devastation to that of realisation, of profound hope that had always been there, but never realised until now. _

_ “Steve,” She started, her voice small and measured. “What are you saying?” _

_ “You know what I’m saying.” He stated, eyes still locked onto hers. “You’re all I have left.” _

_ Natasha shook her head. “That doesn’t mean…” _

_ “It does, Natasha.” Steve interjected gently. “It means exactly that, because I’ve been thinking about this for years. You told me you would go to the ends of the earth for me.” He paused, taking a deep breath before saying, “what if I told you I would do the same for you?” _

_ She wanted to say something, but the words don’t fall from her tongue. Instead, she held his gaze, searching in his eyes, wondering if he meant what he said. Natasha chided herself - of course he did, this was Steve Rogers, Steve who was always honest, Steve who wore his heart on his sleeve. _

_ He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, resting his palm against her cheek. “You know very well how I feel about you.” _

_ Natasha finally found her voice. “You deserve someone better.” _

_ Steve replied without a pause. “I don’t want someone better.” _

_ “You’re Captain America. A symbol of hope and all things good.” She smiled weakly. “And I’m the Black Widow. Spy, assassin, Russia’s traitor. You don’t want to be with me.” _

_ “You’re wrong. With you, I’m just Steve Rogers.” He said softly, cupping her face in his hands tenderly. “And in my eyes, you’re just Natasha Romanoff - my partner and my confidant. Everything else is just background details.” _

_ Natasha’s breath was taken away by the intensity of the way Steve was looking at her - she’d never seen anyone look at her that way, a look of genuine love and adoration, the amount of respect in his eyes. She felt it just then, a feeling that had laid dormant within her but was slowly awakening, of butterflies flitting into her heart, slowly but surely. Her heart racing, nerves jittering. Still, Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself to ignore what her heart was telling her. _

_ “I’m broken.” _

_ “So am I.” _

_ “What are you suggesting?” Natasha murmured, not realising that she was moving closer into him. _

_ “I’m suggesting for us to stop running.” Steve said. “I’m suggesting for us to stop pretending these feelings don’t exist between us.” _

_ “If we do, we can’t go back.” _

_ “What if I don't want to go back?” _

_ “Steve, I -” _

_ “Natasha,” He interrupted her. “If there’s anything that I’ve learned from the decimation, was the fragility of life.” _

_ There was a pause as Natasha brought her hand to his face. It struck her just then, how true his words were - life was indeed fragile, in a blink of an eye, she’d lost almost everyone that mattered to her. Everyone except Steve. _

_ “I don’t want to lose you.” Steve pressed his lips against her forehead softly. “Remember when I told you that I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I lose you? Those words are still true today, Nat. They would always be true.” _

_ “Steve…” Tears started to well up in her eyelids. Natasha could feel it - she could feel herself giving in to his words, giving in to him. “I don’t ever want to lose you too.” _

_ "Then stop fighting this." He almost begged. "Give me a chance to fix you. To fix us." _

_ Her heart pounded, his words echoing within her. She was aware of the consequences if she allowed herself to listen to him, to heed his words. What it would mean to their relationship. It scared her to near death just thinking about it. But at that moment, with just the two of them in the facility, just months after they’d lost all hope, Natasha stopped thinking. Instead, she started following what her heart was telling her since the very beginning, words she’d disregarded and ignored for the longest of time, thinking that by doing so, it would protect both of them. Who was she kidding? It only made their feelings stronger - and it took her so long to realise this. To realise that Steve was right. To realise that there was a possibility that she was in love with him. _

_ Natasha brought her free hand towards his, intertwining their fingers together. "In the end, it is still us against the world." She mused. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace, calm, like everything was going to be alright, even though nothing was. _

_ He nodded, giving her a smile. "Always, Natasha. Always." _

_ She was leaning into him by then, her eyes fluttering shut. She held her breath, just waiting, waiting, waiting - until Steve finally closed the gap between them, pressing his lips onto hers gently and softly. The moment their lips touched, Natasha felt a jolt of electricity running down her spine - it was a different feeling than the last time she had pulled him towards her, kissing him on that escalator. The circumstances had been different then, a situation of dire need for distraction instead of a want for feelings. _

_ But this, this was different. This kiss was a tangled fruit of repressed feelings, a reminder that they were each other's constants, their lives a shared experience. Steve was aware that when Natasha returned his kiss, it was because she felt the same way like him too. He pulled back for a second, her eyes opening to meet his; the layers of want and desire evident in the green he had fallen in love with - it prompted him to lean forward again, to kiss her again. His tongue teased the seams of her lips, and she parted them so he could kiss her deeper. One hand against the nape of her neck, and the other on the small of her back, Steve pressed closer into her, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. _

_ When they broke apart seconds after, he rested his forehead against hers, both of their eyes closed. He heard the rhythm of her breathing, steady and slow, felt the beating of her heart against his chest. She traced her fingers along his arms, leaving a trail of warmth all the way to his neck - he almost shivered at her touch. _

_ Then, Natasha whispered against his lips. “Can you stay with me tonight?” _

_ “Nat,” Steve kissed her once, twice, opening his eyes to look at her. “That isn’t a question you have to ask.” _

_ She smiled - this time, it reached her eyes. _

* * *

In the next few days, Steve shows Natasha the journal she had written, hoping her own words would reach her. While she recognises her own writing, Natasha doesn’t remember ever writing any of those entries down - reading her journal made her understand that she’d developed a condition which impairs the way her brain would collect and store memories. Her reaction towards her condition improves day by day, as though reading the same words over and over again has mentally etched the effects in her.

Steve decides to change the way he would speak to her, too. Instead of trying to convince Natasha that she is a changed individual today, Steve starts to tell her about his childhood, about who he is as a person. He knows what Natasha had written in her journal before her condition became worse, knows that she’d read about him being someone important in her life. Steve holds on to that strand of hope that those words she had written would still resonate within her heart even if memories of him are absent in her mind. He figures that his story would be more compelling to her than her own - maybe if she knows who he is, she would be able to reach deep into her subconscious and draw out the reason why she’d written those words in her journal the first place. 

So Steve starts his story, introducing Bucky to her, about how he is his best friend. He tells her about the war, about being Captain America, how different his life had turned out to be when he used to be a frail, sickly boy. Natasha listens quietly, attentively, to everything he is telling her - this simple gesture of hers is enough to encourage him to continue.

Steve does exactly that. He tells her about Peggy, his first love; a love that was never meant to be. How he crashed into the ice, falling into slumber for 70 years. He reminisces the time when he woke up to a new century, completely lost and confused - a man out of time, Steve muses, is what he is. 

“Did you manage to get that dance?” Natasha asks softly when Steve pauses. “With her?”

He shakes his head. She prompts him to continue. 

Steve tells her everything. Even if she would forget the next day, he tells her about his entire story, one that eventually converges to include hers, to include _ their _ story. It is a seamless transition, effortless - how she waltzed into his life one day, an encounter that changed his life forever. His first word to her; _ ma’am_, her first word to him; _ hi_. Steve narrates the Battle of New York to her, ignoring the frown on her face, the clear struggle in her eyes to accept that she had done good for other people, that she had saved the world. Steve tells her that after that battle, Fury had partnered them together, and they’ve gone on countless missions together. He says, with an amused laugh, that working with her in the beginning was tough because they couldn’t see eye to eye with one another. At this, Steve notices the twitch of her lips, the instinct to smirk. He continues, telling her that slowly, over time, they warmed up to each other. He began to trust her, and she, to him. 

Steve tells her she would go over to his apartment and watch movies with him, adjusting him to the 20th century - she would show him videos, play pop music for him, introduce him to Star Wars, Disney and Harry Potter. He tells her how she would always be by his side, never leaving him - it tells a lot about who she is, the loyalty running in her veins. 

“I may not have gotten the dance with Peggy, but I got something better.” Steve pauses, a small smile on his lips. “_You_.”

Natasha frowns, the crease on her forehead deepens. She doesn’t say anything - she doesn’t _ know _what to say. Perhaps she is reading too much into that one word, she thinks to herself, it probably doesn’t mean more than its literal meaning. 

Steve takes in a deep breath. “You are the person who made this century home for me.” He says it slowly, hoping she would take in all of his words, hoping they would resonate within her heart as loudly, as clearly as they possibly could. “Without you, there wouldn’t be Steve Rogers in this century. The one constant in my life, the person who showed me colours when all I could see was black and white. You are my -” Steve stops himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. He changes his sentence in the end. "- we had a lot of history together."

Natasha tilts her head to the side, trying to digest his words. "Because we are partners."

"Yeah." Steve agrees, then regrets as the next words slip out of his tongue naturally. "That, and more."

She gives him a look, eyebrows furrowed together. "More?"

Steve shakes his head. 

"Tell me." Natasha presses on firmly, then adds. "Please."

He contemplates if he should, eyes searching in hers for any hesitation or fear. He sees none of those, only genuine curiosity, the want to know. Steve whispers, fighting against all the voices in his head telling him not to say those words. “I love you.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in - Steve doesn't dare to look away. He wants to gauge her reaction to this, the first time he is telling her those three words ever since she lost twenty years of her memories. But Steve isn't surprised to find that Natasha's face does not betray her thoughts.

“You’re lying.” She simply shakes her head. As he would have expected, she didn’t believe what he’d just told her. “That can’t be true. Why would you, Captain America, love someone like me?”

“_Someone like you_?" That was the last straw, desperation building up within him. "Do you even realise how much you’ve done for the world? The sacrifices you’ve made to save innocent lives? The question you should ask is; why _ not_?” 

Natasha sits up straighter in her bed, her eyes fiery. “Because I’m a spy, an _ assassin_.” She snaps. “I’m _ not _a hero like you, or anyone else you’ve just told me about.”

“But you _ are_.” Steve doesn’t give in, his voice insistent and firm. “Why can’t you see that, Nat? If you could only see yourself, you would see why I love someone as brave and beautiful as you.”

She shakes her head furiously, in complete denial. “You still love me despite all the things I’ve done in the past? The blood I’ve spilled? The lives I’ve taken away?” Natasha shoots back harshly, her tone laced with bitterness. “You don’t love someone like me, Steve. You _ can’t _. You deserve someone better than me.”

“You know,” Steve scoffs. “Of all the things I want you to remember, this was the least of it all.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. Steve continues. “You always said that to me. About how I deserve someone better, someone more righteous, someone without blood in her hands. And I always, always tell you that I don’t want someone like that. I don’t _ need _ someone like that, not when I have you. Not when the person I’m in love with is _ you._”

She slumps into her pillow, and Steve sees the tears in her eyes. "Lies." is all she mutters, and he grimaces at the tone she used. “Let it_ go_, I’m _ not _worth your time.”

“You took my heart in your hands a long time ago. And you’ve _ never _ let go.” Steve responses eventually, after a long pause between them. “So tell me then, Natasha, tell me why I should let you go?”

“Because I’m not worthy.”

“And how do you measure a person’s worth? Because to me, you are worthy. You are _ always _ worthy.”

She stays silent, a prompt for him to continue as Steve shifts his chair closer into the side of her bed. "You've always talked about wiping the red off your ledger, but you've never realised that ever since you defected from Russia to join SHIELD, it has already been a clean slate for you. There was no longer any red for you to remove."

"You're idealistic." Natasha mumbles. "I know for a fact that that isn't realistic.”

"I'm not idealistic." Steve shakes his head. "I'm telling you this based on what I have seen from the decade long friendship we share with each other. I have seen you at your worst, Natasha. And even then, you never stopped. You never gave up. You did so much for the world, for children whose parents had disappeared because of the snap."

For a few seconds, Natasha is rendered silent - and for a split second, Steve begins to hope. He hopes that perhaps his words had gotten through to her, that she had accepted what he is trying to tell her. 

But Natasha closes her eyes, letting a tear slip. “How do you expect me to believe in something I can’t even remember?”

His heart shatters.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you are thinking - how is this story going to end happy when it's just getting sadder and sadder, and there's only 2 chapters left? kajsdakd my answer to you is that it _will_ get better from next chapter onwards so just trust me :')


	6. Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Natasha begins to accept.

Some days later, Tony brings Morgan and Pepper to visit her. Tony and Steve entered her ward first, after Natasha had read her journal, had known that in that twenty years of missing memories, her life had turned out different in the most unexpected way possible. They tell her their stories all over again - with Wanda’s help, Natasha accepts those recounts quietly. 

Towards the end of Steve’s story, she asks. “How many times have I heard this story?”

He hesitates, exchanging a brief glance with both Tony and Wanda. “Five.” Steve replies softly.

Natasha nods calmly, of quiet acceptance, her face impassive. Somehow, it hurts Steve even more to see her like this. “So I’m an Avenger.” She glances at Tony this time, her tone a crossbreed between a question and a statement. Still, Tony nods. “Yes, yes you are. We have records, video footage if you want to see.”

She takes a few seconds to think. Steve could tell that part of her is curious, wanting to know the life she had led after defecting from the KGB - but even then, Natasha shakes her head eventually. “That wouldn’t be necessary.” She states ruefully, and Steve slumps his shoulders in disappointment. 

Tony is quick to sense the change in atmosphere, so he changes the topic easily. “Hey, you’ve read about Morgan, right?”

There’s a short pause before Natasha nods. “She’s your daughter.” She says, remembering what she’d read from her journal just two hours ago. 

“And _ your _goddaughter.” Tony adds with a pointed look, wasting no second to continue. “I brought her with me today. Do you want to meet her?”

Steve sees how her eyes widen, hesitation streaking across her face in slight worry. To ease the discomfort lingering in the air, Steve makes small talk with Tony, to give her more time to think this through. “Pepper is here with her, isn’t she?”

“Yes. You know,” Tony regards Natasha again, his voice gentle. “when we told Morgan where we were going, she wouldn’t stop asking if she could come along.”

Natasha’s expression softens. 

“She really misses her Auntie Nat.” Tony adds softly, giving her a wishful smile. “What say you, Red?”

There’s a rather long pause that ensues after that, with both Tony and Steve waiting for her response with bated breath. Slowly, and eventually, Natasha nods. 

* * *

When the little girl bounces into the room and rushes to throw herself onto her father, Steve is momentarily worried that it would be too much for Natasha to handle. But the second he lays his eyes on the redhead, he finds that he’d underestimated her. 

Natasha is far from being overwhelmed - in fact, she couldn’t stop looking at Morgan. She tears her gaze away from the child only to look at Pepper, who’d given her the warmest smile she could muster. Pepper reaches forward carefully to hold Natasha’s hand in hers, and for the briefest of moment, Steve swears that he sees Natasha squeezing Pepper’s hand in return, in obvious comfort even if this is her first time meeting her for the day.

“Hi, Natasha.” Pepper smiles. “I’m Pepper. And this is Morgan, your goddaughter.”

“Hi Pepper. You’re in my journal.” Natasha says plainly, gesturing to the book beside her with a smile - _ I know who you are, _ Steve assumes that is what she wanted to say. She shifts her gaze towards the little girl after that, hiding her nervousness behind a wide, affectionate smile. “Hi, _ malyutka _.”

Tony exchanges an immediate glance with Pepper, their eyes widening. Steve holds his breath, a little stunned to have heard that one familiar word from her - _ malyutka_, that is what Natasha would usually call Morgan, it is what she would consider as a term of endearment, a nickname that has stuck since then. 

“Auntie Nat!” Hearing that tone of familiarity, Morgan finally lets out the excitement she’d controlled within her, as per her mother’s request before they’d entered Natasha’s ward. The little girl scrambles from Tony’s lap onto the bed, nestling herself into the crook of Natasha’s arms, her tiny hands wrapped around her torso. “I’ve missed you!”

When Morgan settled herself into her arms, Natasha had froze. For a moment, she doesn’t know what to do - the only memories of her with children were ones that she wished she could forget. In mild panic, she glances at Steve, her eyes widening in uncertainty - and Steve notices that at once, even before she said anything. He holds a hand out, gesturing for her to breathe. She complies, all the while her eyes never leaving his.

Natasha doesn’t know why, but seeing Steve has a calming effect she couldn’t shake off. She figures it is because of her journal, words she’d written in the handwriting she’d recognised as her own, telling her that he is someone important to her. They can’t lie - she knows that much.

“Me too,” She breathes out, bending down to kiss the crown of Morgan’s head. She allows natural instinct to take over, not thinking much as she runs a hand through Morgan’s hair, her gesture affectionate and gentle. Natasha taps the tip of Morgan’s nose lightly while the little girl giggles, completely content being in Natasha’s arms. “How is my favourite five year old doing?”

When she glances up, Natasha is a little surprised to find Pepper tearing up. For a second, she thinks she’d done something wrong - but then it strikes her a few seconds later, when she sees a similar expression on Tony, that she isn’t doing something wrong. 

She is doing something _ right _.

“I’m good, Auntie Nat.” Morgan replies with a grin. “Mommy said if I’m a good girl, I could see you again.”

“That you most definitely are.” Natasha replies without hesitation, the smile on her face blossoming naturally, her heart swelling with genuine happiness. She sees Steve in her peripheral, noticing that even he looks a little teary. Natasha makes a quick mental note to ask him about this later, why they are reacting this way. What had she done?

She finds out much later, after Morgan had fallen asleep and Tony had carried her outside, that she’d done nothing but be _ herself_. In that hour that Morgan had climbed into her bed, Steve tells her that it was like seeing the Natasha they knew all over again - she may not have any memory of ever being with Morgan, but in that moment, from the way Natasha had acted with the little girl, it was as though she did. 

“You used to always refer to Morgan as your favourite five year old.” Steve is still smiling. “And you would call her little one_. _”

“_Malyutka_.” Natasha mutters, to which Steve nods. “Yeah.”

Silence stretches between them as Steve notes the distant look appearing in Natasha’s eyes - he knows at once that she is deep in thought, trying to fathom all that had just transpired. He looks away to stare at the wall, hoping it would give her some comfort, the freedom to think without worrying he would judge her. 

“Steve?”

Minutes after, she calls for him, and Steve immediately tears his attention back towards her. The expression she is wearing doesn’t reveal much of her thoughts - which isn’t surprising, since Natasha is a master of hiding her emotions. 

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

He’s a little taken aback by her question, but Steve shakes his head. “This is real, Natasha.”

“I really am an Avenger?” She repeats the question she’d asked Tony earlier.

“Yes, you are.” Steve firmly states, then softens his tone. “The bravest of all.”

Natasha meets his gaze, and Steve sees the difference this time - the plethora of emotions glistening in her eyes, he could see them all. He hopes that in one of those layers behind her eyes, there is one that believes in what he’d just told her. 

Eventually, she looks away, whispering, “I’m still trying to grasp reality. That I’ve lived twenty years of my life outside of the KGB.”

Steve hesitates. “Do you believe in it?”

“I’d like to believe that part of me does.” Natasha rubs her temples, closing her eyes. “I can’t explain. It’s a little overwhelming, to know that I’ve lived an entire life of my own. Even if I don’t remember, even if I can’t be sure if they’re real -”

“But they are, Natasha.” He interjects gently, easily. “They’re _ all _ real. In the twenty years that have gone by, you had a family, a life beyond the red room. With all of us." He pauses, wanting to add _ with me _, but he doesn’t. “You saw it earlier with Tony, Pepper and Morgan. And Clint, your best friend? One of his children is named after you. To them, you’re family.”

“He named his daughter Natasha?” She asks, a little awed, to which Steve finds himself chuckling. 

“_Nathaniel_.” He tells her - and the look of awe on Natasha’s face is replaced with amusement almost at once. “They initially thought he was going to be a girl, so…”

Natasha smiles at that, trying to picture the scene in her head. And then, without much thought, she whispers, “_Traitor._”

Upon hearing that, Steve feels another round of fresh tears coming. But this time, he suppresses them, shaking his head. “You just did it again.”

“Did what?” She asks in curiosity - if she had noticed the tears in his eyes, she doesn’t mention it.

Steve smiles. “You said that _ exact _ word when Laura told you about Little Natasha being Nathaniel.”

“Is that so?” Natasha is once again amused, another smile lighting up her face. He nods. “I guess...I guess it’s just inherent in me.”

When he hears those words from her, Steve feels a wave of happiness washing over him. The admittance that those gestures and words are part of her even if she doesn’t remember, the gradual acceptance of what they’ve all been telling her - they made his heart flutter. “Of course, they’re _ you _ after all.”

She smiles, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Natasha picks up the journal by her pillow, flipping through every page, looking at pictures stuck in them, put together by Steve and the rest of her friends. She goes through each of those pictures again, her heart singing in a melancholic tune - people she’d been with for the past twenty years, people she’d considered as her family. Even though there is no recognition in her mind, she’s reacting to the faces in her journal, tears stinging her eyes even before she is aware of what’s happening. 

Steve starts again after a while, after seeing the tears trickling down her cheeks. It makes his own heart ache, but he swallows the bitter pill lodged in his throat. “Have you ever imagined this?” He eventually asks.

“Imagine what?” Natasha doesn’t look up, not until a few seconds have passed and Steve remains quiet. She meets his eyes easily, finds herself gradually drowning in how clear they are, how sincere, full of love in the way he is looking at her. Natasha almost forgets to breathe.

“Having all of this. A life outside of the red room, people who loves you,” Steve smiles. “a family.”

“I didn’t dare to.” Natasha pauses, before replying, her tone honest. “All this while, I had nothing. And then I woke up one day to find that I’ve gotten a job that was finally straight, that I was helping people, saving them. Twenty years have passed and I’ve gotten a family, people who I care about who cares for me too.” She gestures to the journal, to the pages spread out. “Truth be told, Steve, I don’t know what to make of all this information.”

Steve inhales, remembering her words from some time back after the snap - _ I used to have nothing. And then I got this job. This family. And I was better because of it. _

He exhales. “You once told me that having this family and job made you better.” 

“I would think so.” Natasha agrees. “I just wish…”

“Hey,” He reaches forward to cover his hand over hers, a gesture that surprisingly does not cause Natasha to flinch. “It’s okay. They’re all in there somewhere, trust me.” 

To his surprise, she accepts it as that, nodding and managing a small smile. “Enough of talking about me. What about you?" She says, tilting her head a little before asking. "In those years after emerging from the ice, what did you have?”

There is another long pause, one that has Natasha quirk an eyebrow in part curiosity, part anticipation. Steve holds his gaze on hers, squeezing her hand gently. And then, he whispers - loud enough for only her to hear.

"You.” Steve gives her a small smile. “I have you."

* * *

**THE PAST**

  
  


_ Ever since that evening, Natasha became better. It started with the littlest things like taking warm showers, eating her breakfast, going for morning jogs with Steve. Slowly in time, she was smiling again, her eyes glinting with a rekindled fire that Steve was relieved to see. _

_ It wasn’t like she’d recovered completely - that would have been ideal, but Steve knew it wasn’t realistic for the time being. Natasha was still hurting, even if her condition had improved tremendously. Steve thought that it was something they both had to live with - demons within them that won’t ever go away - but at the very least, neither of them had to go through that period of time alone. _

_ They started watching movies together again, cuddling beneath a blanket that was barely covering the both of them. Most evenings, the movies were oftentimes forgotten, blanket lying forlornly on the floor - Steve couldn’t remember who would usually initiate it, but they would always end up in tangled limbs, lost in each other, in the love they had for each other. He would kiss every part of her body, reaching deep into her soul when he moved inside her. Every love making would end with their hearts full to the brim, temporary bliss washing over them, swallowing them inside a bubble that they hoped wouldn’t break. It was an indescribable feeling. _

_ Steve found out after some time that Natasha had kept in contact with Tony. She asked him if he would join her to pay them a visit, and Steve returned her question with one of his own - did Tony want him to be there? He asked, because he knew that things between them were loose ends that had unraveled for the longest of time - ever since the Sokovia Accords, up until the moment Carol had brought Tony back to earth. _

_ Natasha had regarded him carefully, speaking with her eyes - _how long do you want to drag this out between the both of you?

_ Steve went with her in the end. She brought him to Tony’s cabin house, a life far away from the city, far away from the reminder of pain they wanted to forget. When he met Tony, there was an obvious tension lingering in the air, but thanks to Pepper and Natasha, they made amends and placed their conflict behind them. _

_ And then Pepper brought Morgan - the way Natasha’s face had lit up the second she laid eyes on the toddler was something Steve would never be able to forget. It was etched in his memory forever. As he watched her gush over Morgan with Pepper, Tony had nudged his forearm sharply. _

_ Without waiting for a response, Tony asked. “How long?” _

_ Steve raised an eyebrow. “How long what?” _

_ Tony smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. Steve saw that he was close to throwing a snarky remark in his direction, but somehow refrained from doing so at the very last minute. “You and Red.” He settled for a straight-forward answer in the end. _

_ The corners of Steve’s lips tugged upward ever so slightly. “It should have been longer.” _

_ “Have you told her yet?” Tony continued briskly. He didn’t seem to mind that Steve had not answered his question directly. “That you love her.” _

_ Steve hesitated. “I think she knows.” _

_ Tony gave him a pointed look. “I didn’t know she became a mind-reader. Wow, when did that happen?” _

_ His sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. Steve sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t feel like telling Tony that he was afraid Natasha would push him away if she hears those three simple words from him, words that carry a symbolism of a promise he was sure he wanted to keep for the rest of his life, yet they are words which carry a risk. Steve wasn’t sure if he was ready to take that risk - he’d only just gotten Natasha back. What if he loses her again? _

_ Steve didn’t need to tell Tony for him to know what he was worried over. Tony has known Natasha as long, if not longer, than Steve had after all. “Look, here is an advice you may choose not to take, Cap.” He started, hands in the air. “How many years have you two lost? I’d assume long enough.” _

_ Steve kept mum, a sign of agreement with his words. Tony continued, turning his line of sight towards Pepper and Morgan. “We’re lucky, you know. That we still have them even after the decimation. You love her. And it’s obvious she loves you too. So don’t over-complicate things.” _

_ Steve allowed Tony’s words to sink in slowly. “I can’t believe Tony Stark just gave me relationship advice.” He muttered, his tone light and obviously teasing. Tony rolled his eyes. “Like I said, take it or leave it.” _

_ Steve simply smiled, looking away. As though there was a magnetic force, his eyes found hers across the room - it was almost second instinct, the timing impeccable as she too, glanced up from Morgan briefly. When their eyes met, Natasha’s face broke into another smile, eyes twinkling, cheeks flushed from something Pepper had whispered into her ear. His heart began to race, Tony’s words ringing in his head. _

* * *

_ The visit to Tony’s home changed something in Natasha. Ever since they returned, Natasha had found an almost permanent lodging in her office, scribbling notes, typing furiously on her laptop, even calling a whole lot of numbers that were unfamiliar to Steve. _

_ She had never been more alive, Steve thought to himself. There was a radiant glow on her face as he watched her from the side, colours adorned on her cheeks and lips. Steve didn’t even need to look closer to realise the gleam of determination in her eyes, of a sense of purpose that had been absent for the longest of time but had been awoken again. When she looked up, having sensed his presence, Natasha flashed him a sheepish smile. _

_ “Sorry, sorry,” She apologised hurriedly. “I know I said I’ll go to bed an hour ago but -” Natasha gestured at the pile of paperwork on her desk. “- I still have a lot of things to figure out and I can’t sleep until I at least finish -” _

_ “Nat,” Steve interjected gently, giving her a soft smile as he walked towards her. “If you would just tell me what you are planning, we can do it together.” _

_ She shook her head once, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I can do this myself, really. You don’t have to worry.” _

_ “Why are you so secretive?” Steve quirked an eyebrow in utter curiosity - peering at the papers spread out in front of her. “What are you up to?” _

_ Natasha simply smiled, not saying anything as she passed him a file. With anticipation, Steve began to flip through the file, and almost instantaneously, he felt a sort of warmth blossoming throughout his entire being. “Nat,” He breathed out by the time he reached the middle. “this is brilliant.” _

_ There was a tinge of red on her cheeks now. Natasha looked away shyly, her eyes trained on the laptop in front of her. “It’s still in the early planning stage, but if it works...Steve...could you imagine the difference it would make to those children?” _

_ Steve could, he really could. He sat down on the chair opposite her, mesmerised by every minute detail on the pages he’d been flipping through - had Natasha really thought of all this in a span of three days? Steve looked up in wonder, saw that she had returned to typing on her laptop, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Seeing her like this made his heart race, that for a few long seconds, Steve was rendered speechless. _

_ “There’s just so many things I need to sort out, legally and financially.” Natasha explained even though he didn’t ask her to. “The location, the license, the registration. I know, I know. I should leave these problems to the lawyers and accountants but I just...I really want to be personally involved in this project.” _

_ Steve saw it - the clear look of passion burning in her eyes. He just had to ask. “What compelled you to do this?” _

_ Natasha smiled, her eyes still on the screen. “Morgan. She just sort of...awoken something in me.” She looked at Steve. “I’ve never felt this alive, Steve. Like I finally have a sense of purpose.” _

_ That was what he had thought earlier when he saw her, Steve wanted to tell her that. But he refrained, instead, settling for a chuckle. “It’s a great idea, Nat.” _

_ “It makes perfect sense too. I should have thought of this sooner.” Natasha sighed a little before continuing her sentence. “They deserve the entire world. Children are vulnerable creatures, so innocent and full of life - they deserve love and attention, every bit of protection. I want to give it to them. I want them to grow with the mindset and memories that they’ve been treated right, that they’ve been loved.” _

_ Listening to Natasha talk about children made Steve’s heart clench - he knew almost at once why this project was so important, so personal to her. No matter how long it has been, her past still haunted her - a childhood that had gone wrong because she’d been in the hands of the wrong people. People who had wrung her dry and forced her into a life she never wanted. As he grew more aware, more understanding of why Natasha was planning on doing this, Steve was deeply enamoured. By her passion, her attitude, the way Natasha hasn't stopped talking, explaining to him her various plans and proposals to create a safe haven for orphans - Steve didn't even realise he'd said the three words until Natasha paused mid-sentence, looking at him with widening eyes. _

_ "I love you." He told her in the gentlest voice possible, as if it was the most natural thing to say. Natasha had froze, unsure of how to react to that sentence she was hearing for the first time from him. But Steve continued to smile, unfazed by the look of shock on her face. Now that the words have escaped him, he felt oddly at ease, the feeling of wanting to say the words again rise easily within him. “Please do not feel obligated to say those words back, I just wanted you to know that you are truly incredible, and I really love you.” _

_ By then, Natasha’s cheeks were flushed. She kept her eyes trained on Steve - he was sincere in his words, as he always was, looking at her in that way that always made her heart flutter. She blinked, still searching for a suitable response, words that could represent how she felt for and about him. _

_ At that long silence, Steve’s heart pounded. It was then that he sensed the butterflies in his stomach, the nerves he had been worried about. Without thinking, an apology stumbled out from his mouth. “I’m really sorry, was that too soon? I just thought…gosh, I’m so sorry, Nat. I didn’t mean to -” _

_ Hearing those words snapped something within her - there was a burst of certainty in her heart thundering beneath her chest. Natasha leaned across the table just then, finding his lips and kissing him with an intensity that caught him off guard. _

_ “Don’t apologise,” Natasha mumbled against his lips, pulling back to look into his slightly glazed eyes. “Don’t ever apologise for saying that.” _

_ “Nat…” _

_ “I love you too.” _

_ Steve’s eyes widened. Before, Natasha had been afraid to say those words, be at the receiving end. Now, she simply smiled, her heart light and calm, running a hand through his hair gently before resting it on the side of his face. _

_ She thought about the first time meeting him, unexpected moments washing over them since then, like a ripple effect, one action causing the act of the other. She just didn't expect that the person who would end up grounding her to reality, saving her in ways she couldn't imagine was a worthy man, though out of his time, with bright and genuine blue eyes as vast as the skies, as deep as the ocean. _

_ Natasha breathed out, with conviction in her tone. “I’m in love with you, Steve.” _

  
  


* * *

Natasha is discharged from the hospital two weeks after. Christine made the necessary examinations to confirm that physically, she is healthy enough to be residing at home instead of being confined in the hospital ward. It goes without saying that the serum in her is working wonders for her physical recovery.

Once home, being in a familiar setting helped tremendously, even if Natasha doesn’t remember living in the facility. It is evident from her movements that Natasha knows the facility inside out - everything is muscle memory to her, lying in her subconscious. Even before Steve told her where things are kept, she already has an inkling on where the utensils are located in the kitchen, which drawers and cabinets to open. Steve hovers nearby, watching her as Natasha reaches for the mug she knows to be hers by heart. It gives him hope again - that not all is lost in her head. 

When days become weeks, each morning becomes a sort of routine for Steve. He introduces himself to her, watches the apprehension on her expression fading away after she reads her journal, see all the photographs of him in it. Every time she looks up to find his gaze, each small smile she would give him, albeit a little wary in the mornings, Steve holds on to every hope and prayer swelling in his heart. There’s a sort of quiet, gentle acceptance that Natasha learns to adopt eventually. Christine tells him it could be because of her journal - reading the same entries day after day has brought lingering effects that he could feel and see. Steve assumes that every morning, reading her journal, words written by herself made her understand, made her realise that she has lived a colourful life beyond the red room - most days, she _ does _.

“This can’t be easy for you.” Natasha tells him one afternoon, a little over two months since she’d been discharged, since she’d returned to live in the facility with him. She tells him that out of the blue, in a tone that suggests sorrow and a degree of frustration.

Steve is calm when he answers her. “It isn’t for you, either.”

“It’s a consequence from a decision I made.” She says softly. “I have to deal with it because it is my life. But you...you don’t have to. Yet you’re still here.”

Their eyes meet. Steve gives her a smile. “You should know by now that to me, that is one and the same thing.”

Her gaze softens, understanding the implication behind his sentence - she knows enough, from the entries of her journal, from the way her heart is reacting around him, that Steve means _ something _ to her. Natasha doesn’t know if it is right for her to believe that she means _ something _ to him too, so she asks. "Aren't you tired? Repeating the same thing over and over again, every single day." 

The guilt of troubling him - Steve isn’t surprised to find out that that is the reason for her frustration. “Contrary to what you think, Natasha, I'm not.” He says patiently, hoping that she would hear the conviction in his tone. “I can't imagine not doing this for you. If it were the other way round, you would do this for me, too.”

In that moment, Steve sees the vulnerability hidden in the layers of her eyes, the mixture of awe and admiration. It reminds him of that fateful day in Sam’s home, a decade ago, a pivotal moment that shifted their friendship into that of mutual trust. 

Still, Natasha shakes her head slowly. “You say it now, but months down the road, years after, won't you give up on me?”

“Never.” He states firmly, without even a second of hesitation. “I can _ never _ give up on you.”

“Why?” Her question comes off as a whisper. “Who am I to you that you can’t give up on me?”

Steve exhales, the answer to her question flitting into his mind easily, almost at once. It is something he has known for years, a fact he’d only discovered in recent years, but knows to be carved in his bones, engraved in his memory for the rest of his life. It is something he would tell her over and over again, something he thinks she deserves to be reminded of, day after day, moment after moment.

“You’re my once in a lifetime, Natasha.” Steve watches how Natasha’s face blossoms into that of a soft smile, of realisation that his words are sincere, because she feels them beating across her heart. “You’re my forever. So as long as you are by my side, I will remind you every day, for the rest of our lives."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I started this fic before the Black Widow trailer came out, I decided not to mention that Nat also has the Widow Fam (they're so cute though ;A;)
> 
> We are approaching the end of this fic! Also, be sure to check out my Christmas AU "Miracles in December" if you want something fluffy for the season hehe thank you for reading and commenting!


	7. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everything falls into the right place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep adding chapters to this fic lmao but I swear, this is the last chapter of the story - the next is merely a short epilogue to wrap everything up. I enjoyed writing this fic very much and it has become one of my personal favourite fanfics that I've ever written. Do enjoy this last chapter :)

There’s a shift that Steve sees as they approach the third month since Natasha has been discharged from the hospital - three long months of her waking up to a new day every day without memories of the nights before. He realises it as soon as he steps into their room in the morning, and Natasha had closed her journal, trying to take in everything she’d just read. 

When she looks up and meets his gaze, Steve is already holding his breath. Some days, she would look up and see _ through _ him, and he would know that it wouldn’t be a good day for the both of them. Most days, she would look up and really _ see _him, and Steve would breathe a sigh of relief as he edges closer to her. She would welcome his presence, understand by natural instinct that this man is someone she is familiar with even though she doesn’t remember his name, doesn’t remember ever meeting him.

Today is that day, and he knows it from her expression alone. Natasha opens her mouth to speak, and Steve hears words he has not heard from her before this. “Who are you to me?” She takes a tentative step towards him. “Why does my heart race when I see you? Why do I feel...happy, at ease...when I see you?” 

They’re words of validation; that the Natasha he knows is _ there _. Steve sucks in a deep breath, then tells her in a voice that matches her tone; measured and quiet. “My name is Steve Rogers,” He pauses for a few seconds to see if there is any spark of recognition in her eyes. “and I love you.”

Steve sees it - the faint look of surprise crossing her face, as if trying to register what he’d just said to her. It isn’t a look of alarm, or disbelief, though, and that to Steve, accounted for something good, so he continues. “I’d like to believe that you love me, too.”

It takes her a few seconds to truly allow those words to sink in - Steve sees it firsthand; how her eyes had widened, how she’s trying to contemplate if his words are true. There’s still hesitation to believe in his words, to trust him, even though Natasha had read her journal, that deep down, she _ does _love him. 

Steve waits, holding his breath, hoping and praying - those are all that he does these days. 

“I know you do.” Natasha finally says, and the silence that lapses after that is telling enough of what is running through her mind - _ I’m just not sure if I do, too. _

So Steve switches the topic easily. “Do you want to get breakfast?” 

She nods.

* * *

Later in the day, seated together on the same couch, Natasha decides to ask him:

“How does it feel like? To live a full day and remember everything the next day? I know I used to be able to do that, but now, it all seems like a faraway dream. It must be nice, isn’t it? It must be nice to remember.”

And for a moment, he doesn't know how to answer her. Steve manages a nod - _ yeah, it is, _ he seems to say, _ but this is okay, too. _

Natasha looks at him in disbelief. He waits for a few seconds before elaborating. “I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind reminding you each day on things that matter to your heart.”

“And what’s that?”

“Life after the red room. Life with the Avengers, with your family. With me. How we met. How we fell in love.” Steve exhales. “Everything.”

She doesn’t say a word, not until Steve reaches forward to hold her hands in his, a gesture that compels Natasha to look at him.

“And you _ will _ remember.” He assures her gently, yet firmly. “You will remember that you’ve lived a wonderful life away from the confines of your past. You will remember that you are worthy, that you are admired by many, people and children who look up to you as a hero because that is what you are, Natasha. You will remember that you are loved. By all of us. By me. _ Especially _me.”

Her expression softens, a smile gracing her face. 

“And you will carry this feeling in your heart forever.” Steve caresses her cheek with his thumb, sees the way she melts in his touch. “If there’s one thing I could ask from you, Natasha, is to always remember that I love you.”

She remembers the entries in her journal, remembers reading words of the same nature in them, uttered by Steve, supposedly ingrained in her heart. When Natasha holds his gaze, she doesn’t see an ounce of doubt in his eyes. All she sees is the clarity in his blue irises, of a love so sincere that it causes her heart to drum loudly in her chest. This morning, he had said to her - _ I’d like to believe that you love me too _, and she hadn’t given him a response, because Natasha had been unsure. Now, she finds herself edging closer into his embrace, placing a hand against his chest to feel the steady beating of his heart, a reminder of how much she is loved. 

Natasha soon realises that she doesn’t just love him - but that Steve is her sanctuary. Her_ home. _

So she tells him - _ always, _ and leans her forehead against his. Then slowly, gently, Natasha presses her lips against his tenderly. In that second their lips met, Natasha feels shivers down her spine, the warmth unfurling within her stomach - the feeling of how everything is _ right _. “Always, Steve.”

“Don’t you forget me, Nat.” Steve mumbles against her lips. “Don’t you ever forget me.”

Her eyes are a little bit teary when she replies. “I won’t. I promise.”

And Natasha kisses him. Again, and again, and again.

* * *

**THE PAST **

_ When Scott Lang showed up outside the Facility, followed by Bruce, then Tony, and the rest of the remaining team, Steve noticed the look in Natasha’ eyes, one that he has not seen in a long time. _

_ It was a look of undeniable relief - of hope that was long forgotten. Her steps seemed to sing when she walked, practically danced across the room, her heart bursting with insurmountable joy and pure happiness over the prospects of another chance, another opportunity to right what they did wrong. _

_ They were back together as a team, all of them, and Natasha had wholeheartedly believed that there was nothing that could go wrong from that point. Plans and strategies were carefully derived from Scott’s suggestion, and Natasha thought to herself; whatever it takes, she would do _ whatever _ it takes to get it right this time. _

_ He was enamoured by her determination, that underlying passion in her eyes. It reminded him of the very reason why he was so in love with her, how he had been captivated by her confidence, lulled in by her strength and aura in the first place. The night before the Time Heist, as they laid under the covers together, carefully tucked around the arms of each other, Steve was suddenly hit by an overwhelming fear of losing her. _

_ Of losing the one thing, one person that matters to him most. _

_ But Steve didn’t know how to tell her that, so he resorted to showing her - showering her with many kisses, hot trails down the expense of her throat, on the map of her body. He poured his entire heart and soul into her that evening; he needed her to know just how much she meant to him, how this place, this century was made home for him because of her. He was desperate for her to know that just the thought of losing her was enough to break him, no, Steve knew for sure that it would kill him if he loses her. _

_ And Natasha - she noticed, of course. He was distracted, worried about something. Steve may not have said anything, but she could almost hear his thoughts lingering in the air. Once they’d both settled down from their high, Natasha had cupped his face in her hands gently, her breathing though still uneven, managed to whisper, “Hey,” She pushed herself up to kiss him. “what’s wrong?” _

_ He was silent for a while, eyes not quite meeting hers. It worried her, but Natasha remained patient, running one hand through his short tresses tenderly. “You can tell me, Steve.” _

_ He exhaled slowly, finally turning his gaze onto hers fully. “I can’t lose you, Nat.” _

_ Natasha softened her expression at once, his words echoing within her. She caressed his face, searching for words to say, before settling for an assurance instead. “You won’t.” _

_ “Whatever happens tomorrow,” Steve whispered, “you will come home to me, won’t you?” _

_ Her smile faltered just a little. The thing with missions, the baggage that comes with being a superhero, was that promises should not be made out of the whim. It was one of the first few rules Natasha had learned when she started out as an agent; nothing was certain in the field, in carrying out her duties and missions - circumstances differ greatly in the face of uncertainty, just about anything could happen no matter how well thought out, how articulated their plannings have been. And she _ knew _ that. _

_ So she pulled him in for another kiss, one that lasted longer - and Natasha thought, this would have to do. This would have to make up for the promise that Steve hoped to hear from her, because she didn’t think she has it in her to assure him that she would return home safely. She didn’t know what was going to happen in Vormir tomorrow, but Natasha has had a gut feeling that told her it wasn’t going to be a smooth journey. She wasn’t going to tell him that. _

_ “It will be okay, Steve.” These words were all she could offer to him. Natasha hoped that they were enough, because she cannot bring herself to say anything more. “It will all be over soon.” _

_ He nodded, settling himself beside her, pulling her closer into him as they faced each other. Steve was aware of the unspoken words lingering in both of their minds, the promise she had not made. “When this is all over, can we finally get the life we both deserve?” _

_ She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “And what would that be?” _

_ “Of being just Steve Rogers, instead of Captain America.” Steve replied slowly. “An attempt at a normal life.” _

_ Natasha held on to his gaze, laughing slightly. “With a house surrounded by white picket fences, a private yard, a dog and a cat?” _

_ He shook his head. “With you.” _

_ She beamed, heart pounding against her ribcage. “With me.” Natasha repeated, as though she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. _

_ Steve nodded without missing a beat, tucking her loose strands behind her ear. “Truth be told, I thought I didn’t want that sort of life anymore. The man that got out of the ice had different views than the man who got into it the first place. I had been contented with everything.” _

_ “So what changed you?” Natasha asked, her voice measured and small. _

_ “You.” He replied simply, the weight of that one word echoing steadily in his heart. “You happened. You changed me for the better. And then I realised that...I would give up my shield for you.” _

_ Natasha felt her eyes prickling with tears, and she willed herself not to blink. His words - the promises in them, Natasha could feel all of them. She bit her lower lip, suppressing the sob that was threatening to escape her throat. _

_ “The future is uncertain, I know that.” Steve continued. “But I also know that _ you _ are my future, and that...even when I’m old and gray, I would still see you by my side. Even when my memory fades eventually, I would still remember you.” _

_ She shifted just a little, so that she could press their foreheads together. His words; they resonated well within her heart, and Natasha felt the need to express her own feelings too, to let him know that she shared his thoughts, that she couldn’t picture growing old with anyone else. _

_ “No matter what happens in the future, I will always remember you. And even if I don’t,” Natasha reached for his hand, taking it into hers, then placing it gently over her heart. “I’ll remember you here.” _

_ He pressed his lips on her forehead, pulling her closer. “I love you.” He told her, felt her smiling against his skin. “I’ll always love you.” _

_ Natasha lifted her head so she could meet his gaze - in that moonbeam that shone through the window beside their bed, that brought out the blue in his eyes, she kissed him softly, languidly. “Even when I’m no longer young and beautiful?” _

_ He smiled against her lips, understanding the reference - The Great Gatsby, one of the movies she’d made him watch a long, long time ago, a literature text from his past. “Even then. Especially then.” _

_ Natasha pulled back with a smile. “But let’s not be Gatsby and Daisy.” _

_ “Yeah,” Steve agreed easily, chuckling as he continued. “Let’s be Han and Leia instead.” _

_ She laughed, and Steve thought it was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. Natasha traced his face with her fingers, letting them linger on his cheekbones. Green met blue again, and a smile graced her face. She leaned forward, capturing his lips over and over again - like an addiction she cannot shake off. Her heart fluttered, her heart swelled. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for letting me fall in love with you.” _

_ Hearing that, Steve was rendered speechless and maybe a little breathless - because the way Natasha was looking at him when she said that sentence, with pure serenity shining in her eyes, her smile bright and sincere. She looked euphoric, and Steve loved this look on her. Happiness looked good on her. _

_ “The honour is mine.” Steve told her, brushing her knuckles against his lips. “The honour is _ always _ mine.” _

_ If their love was a novel, Steve and Natasha would have met on the first page itself. The first chapter would have laid down the foundation of their relationship, one built on common trust and mutual respect for each other. Chapters in between would show the push and pull they’d displayed, pushing down feelings of mutual attraction as they pretended not to acknowledge the feelings budding from within. The climax of their love story would be when they finally realised that they couldn’t live without the other, that they would do anything, lay down their hearts for the other. _

_ Finally, their last chapter would have words of appreciation, of gratitude to the universe for bringing them together, for allowing them to meet, affording them with the chance to fall in love with each other. They would be happy. They would have a happy ending - because they deserve that, they deserve that so, so much. _

_ “Nat?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Will you marry me?” _

  
  


* * *

Steve knocks on their door, waiting for a few seconds before entering. The second she looks up and meet his gaze, Steve feels the flutter in his heart - she is smiling at him, journal in her hands.

Natasha speaks for the first time today, in this new day for her. “I know you.” 

He keeps himself composed, even though Steve returns her smile and takes a few more steps forward. “You do, do you?”

She nods, getting down from her - their - bed. “I mean, I don’t know your name but...I know that you’re someone important to me.” Natasha takes a deep breath, then gestures at the journal. “It has told me all I need to know. But the second you walked through that door...I felt it.” 

Steve gives her a nod, prompting her to continue.

“I just know...I know that my heart skipped a beat. When you walk through that door, I feel at ease, safe. Like there is nothing in the world that could hurt me with you by my side.” Natasha holds onto his gaze for the first time that morning. “Tell me it isn’t weird for me to feel this way. Tell me...please tell me my feelings for you are real.”

“It is, Nat. It is. My name is Steve, and I love you.” Steve reaches for her, and she lets him take her hands. “And... I think you love me, too.”

Her face breaks into a small smile. “Is that so?” 

“I’m always honest.” Steve tells her, flashing her a lopsided grin.

“How did we meet, then?” Natasha asks, tilting her head slightly. “Tell me our story.”

He leads her back to their bed, hands still grasped firmly in his. She doesn’t let go, and neither does he. “Well, it all started 13 years ago…”

It is a story ingrained in his memory forever, one that he wouldn’t mind repeating again and again, day by day, for the rest of his life - for the rest of their lives together. The genuine reaction of utter amusement, pure bliss and happiness that Natasha gives him every time he reaches certain parts of his - their - story, is worth it. To see how her reaction differs each time, yet still holds the same amount of awe and understanding, love and adoration - Steve feels privileged to be able to do this for her. He reckons he would never be tired of telling her about how they first met, how they had worked in tandem as a team, how they became partners, then friends and confidants, and finally, how they fell in love with each other. It has taken them a solid 13 years to realise their feelings for each other, but once they had, there was no turning back. 

When he is done telling her their story, Natasha has tears in her eyes. “Steve,” she starts, and he could sense the conviction in her tone. The way his name rolled off her tongue so naturally, how right it felt, how similar it is to how she used to call him - tears start to prick his eyes, too. “We make quite a pair, aren’t we?”

Steve brings her hand towards him, pressing it against his lips. “Honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“So...I love you?” 

“You do.”

“And you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve nods. “with all my heart.”

“Remind me, then.” She whispers. “Remind me that I love you.”

There were days, though not many, where Natasha would question him - why, she would ask, why love someone like me? And Steve would answer, why not? But today, Natasha simply smiles. She cups his face in her hands, draws him closer to her, then hesitates. She’s thinking now, contemplating if it is right to do this, if it is appropriate. Steve waits for her, a smile on his face as he holds her gaze. And then, slowly, but surely, Natasha closes the gap between them with a press of her lips against his, her eyes fluttering shut.

When she pulls back, Steve could see her expression, of calmness and adoration, see her rosy cheeks - a sure sign of her feelings for him. It makes his heart soar, and Steve leans in for another kiss, resting one hand behind the nape of her neck, to which she responses eagerly, parting her lips for him. 

Later in the evening, before the end of another day and after she’d finished writing another entry in her journal, Natasha would tell him. “Remind me again tomorrow, Steve. Remind me that I love you.” 

He would smile, and he would tell her, “Always.”

* * *

Steve eventually develops a similar, routined phrase he would tell her every morning, with just a little bit of modification - Christine did tell him that repeated words would help Natasha remember better, after all.

“My name is Steve, and I love you.” He would say the moment she wakes, just as he had for the past few days and weeks. Then comes the modification, which changes according to how Natasha would react to seeing him, hearing his words. “I’m trying to figure out if you love me, but I believe you do.”

“Hello, Steve.” Natasha breaks into a smile, one hand clutched against her chest. Natasha may not remember who he is, but she knows her heart does, from the way it is racing beneath her, from the way happiness seems to bloom across her stomach naturally as their eyes meet, how happiness seems to be one arm's reach away. The feeling of warmth, of calmness and serenity - how at peace she is when she looks at him. “I do. I do love you.”

* * *

“My name is Steve, and I love you.” 

The familiarity of this sentence sparks something within her at once, and Natasha finds herself edging closer into Steve. “And I know for sure, that you love me too.”

“You’re right, Steve.” She finds the answer in her easily, as if there are no other words than those at the tip of her tongue. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, knowing that this would be another good day. “The kids are visiting us today.” He tells her soon after, and Natasha feels something stir within her stomach. “Cooper, Lila, Nathaniel and Morgan. And of course, Clint, Laura, Tony and Pepper will be coming, too.”

Natasha pulls the journal into her lap, opening them to reveal the photographs that have struck a chord in her when she first saw it moments ago. “I know them.” She simply tells him, smiling by instinct when her eyes spot the photographs of the said individuals. She'd read about them this morning, know everything about them by heart. Natasha allows her eyes to linger a little longer one of the two evidences of the life she’d shared with all of them, before looking up to meet Steve’s gaze. “They’re family.”

He nods, agreeing. “They definitely are.”

* * *

After everyone has left and silence washes over the facility again, Steve brings Natasha out to the veranda, full moon adorned above their heads, stars littering across the blanket of the beautiful night sky. In that moment of tranquility, he asks her if she is happy.

Natasha tells him that she is. “Are you?” She returns his question easily, and Steve nods with a smile that reaches his eyes. “I am.”

And then he asks another question. “Can you make me happier, Natasha?”

She quirks an eyebrow, unsure of what he means, until Steve reaches into his pocket and produces the ring he’d kept safely with him ever since that night he proposed to her. Natasha gasps, unable to believe what she is seeing. “Steve-”

“A long time ago, I had looked at you and saw my partner in SHIELD, a friend who I’ve learned to trust.” Steve exhales calmly. “And then the next minute, when I looked at you again, I saw my entire future. I saw a forever with you.”

She looks at him with widening eyes.

“The last time I asked you to marry me,” He continues to explain. “you said you _would_, after everything is over. You told me to ask you again, after everything is over.”

Natasha listens to him quietly, without interrupting, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Then I lost you. When you sacrificed yourself for the greater good. I thought I’d lost you forever.” Steve shudders, then smiles. “But you came back to me. And even though it came with a price, I find myself thankful every day that I still have the chance to be with you. That you are still here with me.”

He fits their hands together, taking a step closer to her. “I told you back then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life loving you. Those words, even today, are still true.” Steve inhales, then exhales. “And if I have to do this every day, I would.”

“Do what?” She whispers.

“Ask you to marry me.” Steve replies with certainty in his tone. “So I can hear you say yes, over and over again.” 

Her vision starts to cloud with tears, her free hand moving naturally to rest on the side of his face. Then, Steve gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Natasha?”

She kneels too, so that they are of the same eye-level. Natasha wipes the tears in her eyes away, sees the man she is very much in love with staring right back at her, his expression speaks a volume. When she replies, Natasha knows it is with conviction, a promise that would last a lifetime. “_ Yes _ .” She firmly states, leaning forward to close the gap between them. “A _ thousand _ times, _ yes _.”

* * *

  
  


If Natasha’s life is a song, she would have imagined it to go like this: its introduction starts off soft and light, instrumental notes drifting delicately and melodiously to listening ears; a clean sound. When she was a child, in the few years before the Red Room, Natasha remembers being happy - unreserved, confident, a heart that is pure and untainted. 

Then the first verse comes in, and the innocence from the introduction fades away. Instead, the melody changes, setting the sombre theme of her song to be that of a mystery. In the Red Room, Natasha remembers forgetting how it feels to smile, to laugh. She remembers many days in the dark, not knowing what awaits her beyond the closed doors. She remembers being molded into somebody she’s not, a stranger living in her body. She remembers only pain.

The chorus of her song sets in and it is a deception of what it truly depicts; the notes seem to be in tune, harmoniously written, but if she listens closely, she would realise how messy it really is, staccatos inserted at all the wrong notes, in all the wrong places. It displays a clear message of her identity, who she really is - a life of lies, tainted with coercion and misrepresentation, overflowing with red in her ledger.

There’s a second verse after the chorus, its melody somewhat similar to the first verse yet there are a few loose, foreign notes that do not seem to be in tune. It raises doubt and confusion to listeners; Natasha is hurting, and she cannot place a finger as to why.

But then the bridge flows in, and Natasha realises that the melody is a contrast to the chorus. It goes back to being slow, radiating calmness and a sort of serenity that turns the entire song around. She hears another set of accompaniment, a new melody that somehow intertwines with her song, making it unconventionally beautiful, inexplicably perfect. The bridge acts as a resolution to the life Natasha had once led, an acceptance that maybe, just maybe, she is worthy after all, that she has done enough to wipe the red in her ledger - it reverberates across every fibre of her being, an echo that tells her that she deserves this chance of happiness, this chance at love.

When the conclusion of her song finally sets in; a quiet instrumental ending with notes that slowly fade away, that is when Natasha knows for sure that she has lived a carved out path of a hero, that her past did not dictate the life she has lived after defecting from the KGB, that she has love, and is loved - everything did turn out okay in the end, _ more than _, if Natasha dares say it. 

_ (She does) _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An easter egg: I'm not sure if you realised it, but each chapter title is based on parts of a Song. I started this story by comparing Natasha's life to one, and I ended it in a similar manner, but with the additional parts (the Verse, Bridge, Conclusion) which I didn't write in the beginning. 
> 
> Only an Epilogue left! It should be up pretty soon. In the meantime, if you wish to read something fluffy, do check out my Christmas AU - Miracles in December <3 Thank you for reading and commenting, they mean the world to me.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where they get their happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this Epilogue comes the end of this fic I have grown to love so much. Writing this fic has been a challenge from the start with me comparing Nat's life to a song - and I can honestly say that I may not be able to write anything else that can top this fic in terms of personal favourite.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me throughout this fic! I appreciate every comment and kudos given. Let me know what you think of this fic/epilogue, I love hearing from readers. :)

If Natasha’s life is a song, it isn’t a tragedy - it is a journey of courageous redemption, a beautiful acceptance filled with visceral, infinite love.

Natasha wakes up to a new day with a calm heart, beating steadily as she glances around the room she is in. It is unfamiliar, yet familiar - she doesn’t remember where she is, but even then, Natasha doesn’t panic. She rises from the bed slowly, her hand lightly grazing the side of a journal. She reaches naturally for it, without hesitation. Natasha flips open the journal - _ hers - _ to see many diary entries - her handwriting, even though she doesn’t remember when she’d written them - and photographs - of unfamiliar people with her, yet an inexplicable warmth fills her stomach at the sight of those photographs anyway - _ family_, the thought flits into her mind, _ these people are family_.

And then she notices it - the silver band on her finger, a wedding ring. Even though it is supposed to shock her, Natasha finds that she is oddly calm. That looking at this unspoken promise around her finger, a sure sign of her devotion and love towards another person - all she could think of is how _ right _ this feels. She plays with the ring, twirling it around her finger - _ it’s beautiful, _Natasha sighs. 

She hears two soft knocks on her door, and Natasha whips her head towards it at once. It opens, and a man takes one cautious step in the room. This man - he is smiling at her - and instantly, Natasha finds herself smiling back.

“Hi,” He greets warmly, and her heart skips a beat at his voice. “Good day, or bad day?”

Their eyes meet, and everything else just fades into the background. The answer to his question slips from her lips easily. “Good.” She gets down from the bed and makes her way towards him - her legs carrying her even before she realises what she is doing. When Natasha reaches him, as if on second instinct, she holds a hand out for him to hold, a gesture that surprises her a little yet doesn’t at the same time. She gazes into his eyes, instantly recognises the familiarity in them, the adoration and love swirling in those blue irises. 

“Steve,” She breathes out gently, softly, and Natasha swears she sees tears in his eyes - it is the confirmation she needs, that this man with the brightest blue eyes standing in front of her is the same man mentioned in her journal, the same man carved in her heart forever, evidenced by the ring on her finger and the way her heart flutters surely beneath her skin. “_Steve_.” She says with certainty this time, still smiling. 

He squeezes her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle affectionately, taking a step into her radius. “Yes, it's me."

“I felt you,” Natasha replies easily, placing her free hand over her chest. “in _ here_.”

“I know,” Steve cradles her face, his world, in his palms gently, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I know you remembered me.”

She laughs - a sound that is most pleasing, most beautiful to his ears. “I would never forget you, Steve. I love you. I _ love _ you.”

He kisses her then, pressing his lips over hers gently. It is only when she presses herself closer, fisting her hands around his shirt and parting her lips that Steve deepens the kiss. He holds on to her like she is his lifeline, their bodies pressed flush against each other.

“_Natasha_,” Steve says, a little breathless after they pulled away. He beams at her, and even though there’s a long pause after that, even though Steve doesn’t say those three words back, Natasha hears it anyway. She hears it in the way her name falls from his lips; special, different. A haven bearing a promise of forever.

She chuckles slightly, bringing her hand in front of her as she fidgets with the silver band around her finger. Natasha glances at him with a smile. “So...this happened.” 

Steve grins back, then confirms. “It did.”

Natasha remembers reading the date in her journal. “We got _ married _ two years ago.” She states, wanting to hear those words out loud - it sends a pleasant feeling down her spine, the hint of awe and obvious serenity rippling across her stomach slowly.

His grin seems to grow wider as Steve nods. “It was the second best day of my life.”

“What was your first?” She couldn’t help but ask, holding onto his gaze once again. 

Steve kisses her once, twice, three times, stalling a little bit of time before he blithely answers; “The day I met you.”

Natasha blushes - just a _ little_, but she doesn't look away. Steve laces their fingers together. "I hope you’re hungry. I made breakfast." He tells her lightly, and starts to move for the door.

"Hold on for a moment," She says, pulling him back. He halts in half-step, turning back to face her. "just for another minute."

Steve doesn't say anything, instead, he nods and gives her a smile. There’s a familiar, wishful look on her face that he deciphers as Natasha being in deep thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

Natasha doesn't reply at once; she finds herself thinking about the existing memories in her head, ones that weren’t pleasant and welcoming - she thinks about what the red room had ingrained in her since she was young, a principle that love is for children, that nothing good could be borne out of something as superficial and fragile as love. But as Natasha runs her hand through Steve’s hair, felt every bit of love radiating from him just by his gaze alone, she realises that the red room had been _ wrong_.

They were wrong to think that love is superficial and fragile, wrong to let Natasha think that she doesn’t ever deserve to love, or be loved. For the longest time, they had led her to not believe in love, to not know what it is - but now Natasha does, every time Steve presses soft, tender promises on her forehead, her lips, her neck; every time he holds her in his arms as though she is treasured gold; every time he looks at her with warm, gentle eyes reflecting the love he has for her - it goes beyond the sky, stretched across the sea of the galaxy. 

Natasha has had no clue of what love is - but now she does. Love is looking across the room and meeting his gaze, his unyielding rapport as he beams back at her. It is grappling in the dark searching for light, then finding it in the hope sparkling beneath his eyes, telling her that everything will be alright. It is him reaching out for her at the same time she extends her hands in search for his embrace. Love is loving him - it is _ him. _

“About how this,” Her smile reaches her eyes, bright and genuine, beautiful and warm. "is my happily ever after."

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
